


Hurt Pride

by FassAvoySub



Category: James McAvoy - Fandom, Michael Fassbender - Fandom
Genre: 30 years war, Angst, Gen, Plague, Punishment, Supernatural Elements, local legend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 42
Words: 44,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29010129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FassAvoySub/pseuds/FassAvoySub
Summary: Times are hard for the city of Iserlohn. The Thirty Years War is raging for 15 years, a lightning strike caused several houses to burn down and the plague is outside the city walls. Enough problems to handle for Mayor Duisberg.But the worst problem is yet to come. The catholic army of General Boenninghausen is coming closer... and he and Duisberg know each other from their youth. But their shared memories are not really good ones.This one is based on a legend from my hometown I started writing for IG. Why did I put it into the James and Michael fandom? Because I could imagine them in these 'parts' if it were a historical movie. Some things in this story are legend, some are purely fictional and a few things are historical fact. Latter ones I will put into the chapter notes. Hope, you enjoy this one. 😘
Relationships: Michael Fassbender/James McAvoy





	1. A Ghostly Apparition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mayor Duisberg is on his way home late in the evening.

Autumn had come and had thrown its cold, gloomy cloth over Iserlohn. The evening fog was slowly spreading along the creek called Lägerbach. The increasingly thick white veils floating through the night-black forest made the Lägertal appear ghostly. The moon had already grown in height and the corpse-white glow of its full disc sent strange shadows through the mist. 

Few people would have dared to go out at such an inopportune time, since black magic, death and ruin lurked outside the safe, warm home. Far fewer people would have dared to go outside the protective walls of the city. It was said that there, in the forest, were witches and werewolves. 

Every grown man said that he no longer believed in these old wives' tales and that they were just good enough to frighten the children, but deep down inside everyone was still afraid of the servants of the black arts. As children, all of them had heard these stories. And just as they all grew up with them, they also raised their children with them. 

These dark tales of the devil's servants, however, now faded from the tales that were brought into the city by messengers almost daily. The war was approaching this area, and marauders were already besieging the trade routes. With each new message, the fear of the Iserlohners was only stoked, because the city had already been overrun and plundered by Spaniards and Burgundians some years ago. They had left death and desolation in their wake. 

Some people, in their superstitious desperation, had already claimed that there was someone with the evil eye in the city who kept attracting this impending disaster until it was close enough to strike. 

One of the few men, however, who was neither superstitious nor afraid of the stories, was still out of town at this hour. He was wrapped in a thick cloak under which he hid his cold-frozen hands, having lost one of his gloves. His hat was pulled deeply into his face and the collar of his coat was turned up so that you could only see the tip of the freckled nose and some wind-tossed brown hair. His breath was already falling into the air as a fine mist, where it mixed with the white mist of the forest. None of the people of Iserlohn would have been surprised to meet this man out here at this time, because mayor Duisberg was known only too well for that. But even if he had met a resident of the city here, Duisberg would probably have walked past him without looking up, because thoughts were incessantly rattling back and forth in his head. Not to mention that Duisberg was more than in a bad mood. 

"Why do I keep getting involved in things like these?" he asked himself. "What did we build the town hall in Iserlohn for?" He had been muttering these and similar sentences to himself for almost half an hour now. He was quite angry because he had been negotiating with foremen and owners of some small wire works in the Lägertal and with merchants for about six hours. It had been tedious negotiations about taxes, wages, balance sheets and trade monopolies, in which none of the parties wanted to give in. They had insisted on it until Duisberg's patience finally broke. After all, he was only human and had threatened the parties with higher taxes and tariffs if they were not immediately willing to make suggestions to one another. After another hour, the negotiations had ended by mutual agreement and Duisberg had made his way back to the city.

He certainly understood the dire situation of some business partners in these hard times, when the country was on the ground and no one knew for sure whether it would ever rise from its misery again, but he had something against greed for profit in the face of need. The workers were barely able to buy a loaf of bread with their wages.

But Duisberg also knew that the wire was the most important thing in the city. Only this fact of keeping one of the city's last arteries alive had induced him to leave the walls of Iserlohn and go to the Lägertal. He had felt like the proverbial mountain coming to the prophet.

He pulled his hat deeper into his face, flushed from the cold, and wrapped his coat more tightly around his broad shoulders. Duisberg could feel the icy cold on his face. The biting wind made his cheeks and nose sting like a thousand glowing pinpricks. "I should hurry back to the city," he thought, because the city gates were certainly already closed. Besides, his beloved wife and daughters were probably already waiting for him. Dinner time was long over and they would probably be wondering where he was staying for so long.The thought of his family made the mayor accelerate his steps.

Suddenly he heard a sound that made him listen up. He felt as if he had heard a scream, but he wasn't sure, because who should be in the forest at this hour? He knew his people enough to know that it was extremely unlikely to find any of them here at this time.

"Maybe someone stepped into one of the wild traps," he thought, and at that moment both the cold and the fear of marauders had vanished from his head. He had never been the type of person to let a helpless soul down.

But an uncomfortable feeling crept into him, all of a sudden and unexpected, a feeling that he had never felt before in his beloved forest. He had played here as a child, had seen many foggy autumn evenings, but for the first time a feeling of fear crept into him.

Then his sharp blue eyes saw the old beech through the wisps of fog right in front of him and it was shrouded in a ghostly white light.

Coming closer he saw something hanging down from its lowest branch, surrounded by clouds of mist, and his curiosity, against all fear and concern, forced him closer.

He recognized a corpse that was turning in the wind and that was not danced around by fog, but by white maidens. When it turned its face towards him, it took Duisberg's breath away - for it was he himself who was hanging on the branch of the beech, the doublet drenched in blood over his chest.

And one of the maidens wasn't dancing - she was tied to a stake, flames licking up her robe, making her utter those piercing cries.

Duisberg was even more frightened when he recognized the girl, because it was his own flesh and blood, his oldest daughter Margret, who was burned there at the stake. He could also recognize the two other nebulous ghost maidens in this ghostly scene, not dancing, but wailing.

It were his two younger daughters. Duisberg saw tears flowing down their snow-white cheeks as if from pure silver. To the right and left of the terrible scene he saw a shadowy war camp take shape.

What did this apparition mean? Was his tired mind fooling him? Was he fallen asleep and suffering nightmares?

He pinched himself, but he felt the sharp pain with a clarity that made him forget the thought of a dream. This apparition was real.

“Good Lord... please... that can't be true... NOOO!” his scream drifted through the forest.

To see himself dead and his daughter dying, screaming in the flames, was too much for him. He was struck by a gracious swoon and sank down senseless on the cold forest ground.


	2. Enemy Soldiers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imperial soldiers show up a few kilometres from the city...

Dark clouds moved across the sky, quickly and deeply, but not a single drop of rain wanted to fall. A young man in his mid-twenties was standing on his field near Kesbern, looking up to the clouds.

All day long he had lifted his head, looking up from his work to see whether a drop of water or a bolt of lightning was trying to break away from this monotonous gray-black.

But despite all guesses, it had remained dry and calm. The farmer stopped his horse and let the plough sink to one side. "You did a good job, brownie." He said, went to his horse and ran the palm of his hand over the broad bridge of its nose. “You have only one disadvantage. You are too stubborn towards my wife. Couldn't you have been a little more helpful when she wanted to plow with the children? At least this time?” The brown stallion just looked at the farmer in silence with his large, dark eyes.

Why did he expect the animal to understand what he wanted? He had intended to plow the field three weeks ago, one day after the harvest, but his wife had forced him back into bed with his feverish flu, telling him, she would plough the field... but she couldn't handle the stallion, by the life of her.

"Can you imagine that, brownie, she wanted to make glue out of you stubborn mule." he said softly and the horse pulled its head out of his reach with a dissatisfied hum. Selberg took the harness from the horse, shouldered the plow, and carried it over to the little shed. As he came out and closed the door of the shed, a voice rang over to him.

"Hey, you there! Tell me which is the fastest way to Iserlohn?” Selberg turned around and saw several soldiers on horseback. One of them was standing with his mare in Selberg's freshly plowed field.

“Who wants to know that?” He asked and went back to his horse, which was still standing motionless on the fertile, black-brown soil.

“How dare you speak to me, peasant lout? Remember, I am Colonel Stachwitz, commander of the third dragoons division of our most Christian Emperor Ferdinand of Austria."

Selberg took his horse by the bridle and looked up to the colonel. “Pleasure. Alexander Michael Selberg, farmer. However, here we are not in Austria, so I can expect the same respect from you foreigner like the respect I should show to you."

“I was told how insolent the creatures here are supposed to be. Be it as it is, I asked a question, Farmer Selberg. Where is Iserlohn?"

Selberg looked the colonel in the eye. He mistrusted this man. Why would he want to go to town, he, as a Catholic, if he didn't have bad intentions?

“This way, good Colonel. If you follow this path to the south, it will lead you directly past the town. You have to cover about four kilometers with your men,” Selberg replied.

"Well, didn't hurt, did it," said the Colonel and waved to his men. Suddenly one of them came galloping onto the field, grabbed Selberg's horse by the bridle and pulled it with him. Selberg didn't even get the chance to do anything, because the colonel let his horse rise and hit for the farmer.

"A reward for your insolence." "Horse thief!" Selberg yelled and backed away from the beating hooves. “I do not steal, farmer, I commandeer. Be proud that such a beautiful stallion is allowed to serve General Boenninghausen.“ the colonel laughed, turned his horse and galloped away in the indicated direction, his men followed him with Selberg's horse, which did not resist for a second.

“You'll pay for that, you bastards!” Selberg roared after them as they disappeared behind the trees, then he ran back to his house.

His wife was already in the doorway.“What happened, Alexander?” Selberg pushed his wife back into the house. “Go in, Mariann. It's too dangerous for you here." Selberg closed the door behind him and sent his children into the small bedroom. "Would you please explain what this is all about?” Mariann did not recognize her husband anymore.

Selberg threw off his smock and picked up his best doublet and pants. “What are you doing?” “I go to the city... must to warn the people... the enemy is on the way."

Mariann stood in front of the door and crossed her arms over her chest. “You won't take a step out of this door until you tell me what's going on. In calm words, not riddles. "

Selberg knew his wife. If she said she wasn't letting him go, then she would only let him out under duress. It was better to take these five minutes time.

“There are General Boenninghausen's dragoons here, Mariann. They want to go to the city and they stole my horse. I have to go and warn them immediately, otherwise the enemy will overrun them.” Selberg panted and wanted to pass his wife, but she didn't move a millimeter to the side.

“And how does the gentleman intend to reach the city before the soldiers without the horse?” “Save your cynicism, wife. Do you think I'm that stupid and would really tell them the way? I sent them to Dahlsen. "

Mariann's jaw dropped. “Are you out of your mind? If they discover your deception..." "Then I'll have warned the city and be back here again. We'll go to Farmer Christian, we'll be safe there. The best thing to do is take the children and go to him immediately.” Selberg embraced his wife. “No, I will wait for your return. If you hurry you can be back in a bit more than an hour and we'll go together.” She said and returned his hug. He broke away from her. "What a brave woman I married," he said and kissed her forehead.

At that moment, bright light fell through the small windows and deafening thunder made them huddle together. “What was that?” “That was just thunder, my darling. I've been waiting for this thunderstorm all day. Now it's breaking loose.” “Then go and hurry. I don't want you to kill yourself out there. "

Selberg opened the door and rushed out into the darkness. A few stray drops broke out of the black sky above him. Mariann stood in the doorway and watched her husband disappear into the darkness. The wind was favorable and she heard the bell of St. Mary's Church in the city. It struck six times on the hour. "Take care, Alexander."


	3. Where Are We?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The soldiers are in the middle of nowhere... and the mood isn't well.

"Tell me, who of you has been to this area before?” the mounted officer asked his soldiers. They had marched more than two kilometers through the woods without seeing any sign of a city. No creek, no calls from a watchman telling the time, only darkness and silence, interrupted here and there by the calls of an owl.

“Colonel, no one has ever been to this area. Nobody knows the way.” one of the Dragoons answered.

“We should wait for the first platoon and the general. He knows the area.” a Sergeant suggested.

“That's a good idea. Men, let's rest and wait for the first platoon!” the Colonel ordered and clumsily got off his horse.

The sky was getting darker and the air was crackling. No doubt, a thunderstorm was brewing. “Well then, Lieutenant Schumann... take two men for company and explore the area. After all, this is enemy territory.” “Yes, Colonel. Jan, Daniel, follow me." he ordered and put his horse into a trot, the addressed following him. The other officers tied up their horses, and a few simple soldiers looked for firewood and stones for campfires.

“What do you think, comrade? Will we get to the city tonight?” one of them asked. “You know the colonel, comrade. If he hadn't had his general, his captain and many clever officers, he would never have become a colonel, and certainly not in Boenninghausen's army.” "Might be. The fact remains, however, that our general owes us the money for almost a month. How long have we been waiting for it?" "Almost two... but did you have to remind me now?” “It doesn't matter. When we're in town, then...” “Hey, you guys, you should work and not talk like two washerwomen!” They were rudely interrupted by a harsh voice behind them. "Yes, Sergeant." They answered unisono and parted.

Slowly the little piles of firewood grew and gradually they were lit. The soldiers sat in a circle around the small fires and began to chat again.

“Colonel!” A voice echoed loudly through the forest. The lieutenant rushed up in a gallop and slid his horse to a stop, elegantly jumping out of the saddle, and ran towards Colonel Stachwitz, who was standing by the fire.

“Lieutenant Schumann, why this hurry? What do you have to report? And why are you back so quickly?” “Colonel, we were deceived in the most infamous way, because we are not on the way to Iserlohn.” Unrestrained murmurs rose behind him.

"What kind of nonsense are you talking about?" one of the officers shouted indignantly, and the colonel had a lot of trouble to calm the soldiers down.

"And where are we then?" “We are just before Dahlsen, Colonel, a village south of Kesbern. Iserlohn, however, is in the north of Kesbern. An old farmer's wife shared this knowledge with me."

The unrest among the soldiers grew even more. “Men, put out the fires.” the Colonel ordered. The soldiers hurried to extinguish the fires with water and kicks, while the cavalry was already mounting the horses and the soldiers slowly started to move again. Like a lindworm, they moved northwards, towards the city and its unsuspecting inhabitants, who believed they were safe behind their walls.

"I swear one thing," said one of the officers to one of the soldiers. "If I get my hands on this bogey farmer, by God, he'll pay with his dirty life." As if the sky had heard him, lightning flashed down and loud thunder rumbled through the clouds. “The Lord seems to have heard you." Another lightning flashed across the darkening sky to the north of them, amid threatening thunder. "I just hope the rain will take a long time to come until we find a place to camp near the city," another soldier muttered to himself. It was the one who had torn his mouth over the colonel before. “Why? Afraid of water? ”

“Silence there, damn it!" the Colonel yelled. Another lightning flashed across the sky and made the gloomy forest bright as day. But no rain fell.


	4. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The city's on fire...

Iserlohn was never a community in which the residents were excessively religious. But now pretty much everyone beyond childhood prayed.

A lightning had struck one of the houses, and since there was hardly any rain in the city during autumn, the reet roof burned like tinder and the flying sparks quickly set more of the half-timbered houses on fire.

The cries for help attracted many residents from the neighbourhood, who immediately hurried to form a water chain. Buckets were brought from all directions, and the families who didn't have them brought bowls, kettles, jugs, or even chamber pots to just have something to use to fight the flames. Men, women and even the children helped wherever they could. 

"My child!" A woman fought her way through helpers and onlookers and wanted to run into the house, but one of the men from the water chain dropped his bucket and grabbed the woman by the wrist with an iron grip.

"Let go, Florian! Let me go! I have to get into the house!" she screamed hysterically, trying desperately to wriggle out of his hands. “Have you lost your mind, Johanna? Or do you want to perish in the flames? I'm not letting you run into ruin.” he returned and grabbed the writhing Johanna around the waist.

“My baby! It'll burn!” she yelled, acting like a madwoman to escape Florian's grip, who was struggling to keep her in place. “You can't help her anymore. Nobody can get out, let alone in.” he insisted, but she could hardly be tamed. A soft child's voice rose over the crack of the burning wood. "Mommy, Daddy!"

Florian hugged poor Johanna tightly and tears began to glisten in his eyes. He knew the poor worm trapped there in the inferno. His little daughter had often played hide and seek with her between the houses and he was ashamed of both his helplessness and cowardice.

"Let me pass!" shouted a deep rolling voice from the crowd. The people formed a way and a man stepped forward. He hesitated briefly and looked at the burning house before turning to the desperate mother. “Don't worry, Mrs. Lummer. I'll bring your daughter back.” Then he ran straight into the burning house.

“More water, more! Scoop up what you can!" Florian yelled to the spellbound people, let go of Johanna and poured water into the flames. The roof beams began to creak ominously and there was a crash in the house when one of the heavy beams smashed to the floor. The scared child could be heard screaming again.

"Quick, Peter, we have to get them both out of there!" Someone shouted and immediately two young men followed into the house. “More water, damn it!” Florian screamed. "More buckets, and if you have to steal them!" The flames came out of the lower windows and another roof beam rattled to the ground.

The wind picked up and carried more of the glowing embers away. "Make sure the fire doesn't spread any further!” Florian yelled over the noise of the fire and saw that some of the water chain separated and spread over the entire street to prevent new fires or to nip them in the bud.

“Look!” an elderly woman shouted and all eyes were on the door of the burning house in which the two young men were standing. They dragged the Mayor with them. He seemed passed out, but still held the crying little girl tightly to his chest.

“Thank God! He saved the child!” someone shouted. The crowd broke into loud cheers.

"My child! My sweet little baby!” Johanna cried with tears of happiness in her eyes, threw herself on her knees and clasped her crying daughter.

“Folks, we can't save anything here! Spread out and prevent more houses from catching fire!” Florian shouted and almost as if he had foreseen it the last roof beams crashed down and with them the roof collapsed under an enormous shower of embers. The people hurriedly spread out and formed new water chains all over the street.

Meanwhile the young men had laid Duisberg gently on the ground. His face was covered in dirt and blood and the yellow-red glow of the flames made him look ghostly. "Is he dead?" Johanna asked and hugged her daughter so that she wouldn't see Duisberg in this condition.

The people stared at the lifeless figure on the floor, spellbound, because they were worried about their Mayor. Nobody knew why Duisberg was such a popular man, but it was clear to all of them that they had never had such a courageous, tactful and honest man in the office. One of the two young men who had pulled him out of this hellfire knelt next to him and put his ear to Duisberg's face.

"He doesn't breathe," he said to his helper, who immediately knelt next to him, opened Duisberg's mouth and shared his breath. "What are you doing, Peter?" "I saw how the Medicus did this to a child who no longer breathed after it was pulled out of the creek." Peter returned and shared another breath. 

"You fool, he did not drown." his helper said and pulled him back. Suddenly, the Mayor's body twitched. He sat up with a jerk and began to cough.

Peter leaned down to Duisberg and supported his back. “Are you okay, Mayor? Can I do something for you?” he asked.

“No, Peter. I am well. But I think I sprained my arm when the beam fell.” Duisberg tried to get up and Peter helped him. “But you could do something for me. Go to the town hall. My good Tuerger will want to keep all files safe. Be so good and help him. I'll follow with Michael.” Duisberg was very shaky on his feet and Michael immediately grabbed his shoulders when he threatened to lose his balance.

“Run, Peter. I'll bring him safely to the town hall.” he said. "On my way.” Peter replied and started running as fast as he could, making his way through the surrounding people.

Duisberg leaned weakly on Michael's shoulder. "And you're sure that I shouldn't take you home, Mayor?" he asked, worried. Duisberg began to cough again and his voice sounded rough and scratchy when he answered him. “No, I have to go to the town hall. There is my place. I'm needed there,” he objected weakly. Michael took him under the shoulder and Duisberg put his arm around his neck.

"Mayor, my heart and soul are indebted to you forever." Johanna said to him, still hugging her daughter. “I would never have forgiven myself for not having at least tried, dear Mrs. Lummer. And don't worry. I will take care of your accommodation... and of the others. Nobody should celebrate Christmas without a roof over the head." ”May you be completely recovered soon, Mayor. And please convey the best wishes to your good wife,”she said softly to Duisberg. “Thank you, Mrs. Lummer."

"Mommy, I'm so cold," said her little daughter, still crying. “You should see that you get off the street. The night will be bitterly cold,” Duisberg advised with weak voice. “Thank you, Duisberg. I will pray for you tonight. May the Lord bless and protect you." "Thank you for your kind words, Mrs. Lummer." He said softly and slowly he and Michael walked away in the direction of the town hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical fact:  
> Iserlohn had 7 huge, even devastating, city fires during its history.


	5. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mother Duisberg is severely sick... and her oldest daughter very worried about her condition.

"Mother, are you feeling well?" Margret asked her mother. Her mother nodded weakly. She was in fever for days now, the Medicus unable to help her, except to order strict bed rest and warmth. In addition, he gave order to regularly make cold calf compresses, and Margret followed this order, doing her best to look after her mother, to keep her in bed and to give her food and drink.

Meanwhile, her younger sisters tried to replace their mother as well as possible, and Margret was proud of them. How happy she was that she had Helena and Caterina. She did her best not to let them see how worried she was, but at this point they were both too much like mother. They seemed to have a sixth sense of her worries and problems, especially their youngest sister, Caterina. She was the sisters' strong shoulder, their source of strength.

She got up from her chair and paced her mother's room. The curtained windows attracted her almost magically. Margret saw a play of light through the gap between the curtains and went to the window after all. Carefully she widened the gap and looked out. Nothing was to be seen of the actual fire, only the flickering red glow in the sky.

Father was out there now, either near the fire or at town hall. Probably the latter one. After all, that was the first place they would look for him. She wanted him to be here with her mother now, with his wife, where he was most needed. For her sake, the city could have been in ruins at that moment, if only they were together. But she knew all too well what a pious wish that was.

"Oh father, if only you could forget your duties for a day," she whispered to her reflection in the window. It was almost as if she saw not herself but her father in it. They had the same blue eyes, the same brown, slightly curled hair, the same nose with the "Duisberg freckles" as her mother used to call it. Everyone could recognize her as Duisberg's eldest daughter, but not as the sister of Helena and Caterina, who both had the narrow, fairy-like face of their mother.

She closed the curtains again, turned from the window and leaned over her mother to wipe the sweat off her forehead with a damp cloth. At that moment her mother opened her eyes.

"Is that you, love?" she asked weakly. “No, mother. It's me, Margret. I'll send a messenger for him, if you want. Or one of us girls will run and fetch him.” But her mother only raised her hand weakly and defensively. “Your father, child, I see him. He will not celebrate Christmas with us. The enemy has struck down his body." she whispered weakly, without Margret being able to calm her.

Margret opened the door and called for her sister Helena. "You have to take care of mother for a little while, Lena." she said and walked past her out of the room. “Do you want to call the medicus, sister?” “No, I'm going to find father. Mother will definitely be better when she sees him. She has feverish fantasies again.” she answered Helena. “Then go, but take care, sister. The fire is still not defeated."

Margret turned back to her at the door. “Don't worry, little sister. I don't plan to burn today. I wanted to save that for the Easter bonfire.” Helena gave her a reproachful look. “I wish you wouldn't be so cynical, Margret. That doesn't suit a woman. You'd better leave it to our father to be sharp-tongued." "Yes, Mama. I'll stop. Take good care of mother. ” Margret said and opened the door. The smell of smoke and burning wood hit her. "I'll be back soon." were her last words before closing the door behind her. As soon as she stepped out onto the path, she bumped into a man.

"Don't you have eyes in your head, good man?" she asked, half scared and half angry. “I ask for your forgiveness, Maid Duisberg, but I was in a great hurry. Please tell me, is your father here? I have to speak to him urgently. "

Margret looked the man up and down. “Tell me, good man, what's your name? I feel like I know you.” she said thoughtfully.

“Yes, Maid Duisberg. My name is Selberg. I own a farm in Kesbern." he replied.

"Yes I remember. We saw each other at the Thanksgiving celebration. I am glad that you are better now, because I heard you were sick.” “Too amiable, Maid Duisberg. I owe it to the loving care of my wife and children that I can now stand in front of you again. But forgive me, the message I'm bringing is too important. Please tell me where your father is."

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, Selberg, but my father is not here. He was called away shortly after a lightning strike. You can see for yourself what kind of fire has to be raging. It is best if you tell me what's burning on your soul and I will tell father about it. "

Selberg looked at her. “I can't do that, Maid Duisberg. It's not for a woman's ear, ”he replied evasively.

Margret was unwilling to listen to the peasant pushing around any longer. “Even at the risk that you consider me impolite, Selberg, but whatever you want to say to my father, you can tell me too. At the moment my father certainly has other worries. Have you looked around? The city is sinking in smoke and fire, the mayor's wife is dying, and you are like a cat sneaking around a hot bowl of milk. Tell me what is so very important.” she snapped. Selberg stepped back. He had never seen a woman as confident as Margret, but he told her everything. Margret stared at the farmer as if he were out of this world. Finally she found her composure again. Then she took his hand and pulled him with her.

“We have to go to the town hall. You are right, Selberg. My father has to hear this message immediately.


	6. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some soldiers spend Selberg's wife a visit.

"Where's Papa?" Mariann startled from her sewing work and saw her little six year old son standing in front of her. “Shouldn't you have been in bed long ago, you rascal?” “Papa isn't back yet. Where is he?” She put the sewing things aside, got up and took Stephan by the hand. “He had to go to town. You know, there was something very important that he had to tell Uncle Duisberg. ”Stephan's round children's eyes began to shine. “The generous uncle who bought chestnuts from me?” “Yes, my sparrow. Exactly that generous uncle. "

Without objection, he let his mother bring him back to bed. "Then he will be back soon, right?" "Yes, definitely, little pumpkin. And now lie down and sleep.” She closed the door behind him and exhaled a sigh of relief. It had cost her to lie to her son. But as if that hadn't been enough, her daughter was now standing in front of her. "Mom, I'm so thirsty." Mariann looked down on her and went to the pitcher by the sink. "Darling, there is no more water." "I'm going to get some." Hanna said, took the pitcher and disappeared through the door. "Sometimes they are real tormentors." Mariann whispered, sat down on her stool and continued to do her sewing.

Time passed and her daughter did not come back. "Where is she?” she thought and peered out of the small window, but there was nothing to be seen of Hanna. Mariann went to the window and was about to open it to call for the girl when the door was smashed open hard and several soldiers entered the room.

Mariann jumped and turned to the door. "Who are you?” “You speak when asked, woman,” said the oldest of them. She measured him and estimated him to be about twenty.

“I won't let a green boy tell me what I'm allowed to do in my house.” “But it would be wiser if you did.” One of the soldiers pulled Hanna through the door, another closed and bolted it.

"Take your dirty paws off my daughter." Mariann ordered in a firm voice and took a step towards the soldiers, but the eldest grabbed the girl by the neck, pulled her close and put his dagger to her throat. "O please… don't be so hasty." he snarled and fixed Mariann with his gaze. She stopped immediately. The twinkle in his eyes made her nervous and she took a step back. Tears flowed down Hanna's cheeks and Mariann saw with horror that her little girl was wetting herself in fear.

“That's better, woman. And now we can talk. Put your hands on the table.” Mariann reluctantly obeyed, gazing from the dagger at Hanna's throat to the soldier's eyes. Those gray-green eyes were beginning to frighten her. They were cold and lifeless, and she saw devilish pleasure in them.

"Release my daughter. Then I'll tell you what you want to know." "You are not in a position to make demands, woman." he growled dangerously and let the tip of his dagger slowly slide over Hanna's throat.

Mariann was not at all willing to get involved in his diabolical game about the life of her daughter. She knew that he would not give up his potential leverage until he found out whatever he wanted to know. On the other hand, she also knew that Hanna was in danger, that he would carry out his threat. She looked into the fearful eyes of her daughter, saw the pallor of her face. That look sealed her decision.

Resigned, Mariann lowered her eyes and tried to control her voice. “I'll tell you everything, officer, but spare my child. She didn't harm you.” The officer pushed Hanna away like a rag and put his dagger away. Mariann took her in her arms and sent her into the bedroom. “Go darling. Mommy has to talk to the uncles.” Hanna obeyed and immediately disappeared behind the door.

“I knew you are clever, woman. And call me Lieutenant.” “Yes, Lieutenant,” she replied tonelessly. "Much better. Now tell me where your husband is.” “He... he left for the city... when the bell rang the sixth hour. I swear on the life of my child.” “So... to the city... Hardenberg, Steiger, search everything.” “Yes, Lieutenant.” The door was opened and the men addressed walked away to stable and barn. Two of the others searched the house.

After a few minutes Hardenberg and Steiger came back and reported. “Did you assume that I was lying to you?” “Not lying, just keeping secrets. But it is better for you that you told the truth. Riedel, the girl.” The named went to the door of the bedroom. Mariann wanted to stand in his way, but one of soldier grabbed her wrists, turned her arms behind her back and forced her to kneel. “Please don't, Lieutenant.” Riedel came out of the bedroom with Hanna and Stephan on his hands. "Look at this, you have two children, woman. To the stable.” “What are you doing with my Mama?” Stephan asked. “Go with the uncles, Stephan. We need to talk... alone. Be a good boy."

Stephan obeyed and went out with his sister. “You are a good liar when it comes to your brats, woman. But that's good, because that way they don't need to see what's happening to you.” Mariann fought desperately against the hard grip, but the soldier twisted her arms even more.

The Lieutenant sat on the edge of the table. “The more you fight, the more your children will suffer. Let go of her, Fuchs.” Fuchs pushed her to the ground in front of his commander. Mariann lay there and rubbed her aching arms. With an effort she held back the tears. She didn't want to give the soldiers the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Slowly she got up on her knees again and looked at the Lieutenant. “What else do you want? Didn't I tell you what you wanted to know?” “That's not the point here, woman. Since your husband isn't here, we will have to punish you for what he did. You can believe me, this was not intended when we entered the house.” he answered in an excessively mild voice and pulled the cloak from his shoulders.

Mariann's eyes widened as she watched him take off the sword belt. “What are you going to do with me?” “You should be able to guess that.” Mariann backed away, but Fuchs kicked her down in front of the Lieutenant again. She began to tremble all over. He couldn't really want to do that. 

“But my husband wants to be back soon.” she whispered, rising back to her knees. “All the better. He can watch what the punishment for his behavior is." he snarled while slowly opening the laces of his trousers.

She could feel her strength waning. The lieutenant slowly forced her head up with the toe of his boot under her chin. When Mariann saw his cold eyes she felt her last strength give way. He enjoyed tormenting her, it excited him to see her writhing when he threatened her children. She could no longer face those gray-green eyes and looked away. She felt his boot brush her cheek to turn back her face. "Don't you have anything to say, woman?"

Mariann knew that she had to bow to his will. The guy wanted a submissive woman, so she would submit to him. She felt hot tears run down her cheeks, closed her eyes and touched the cold leather boot with her lips. "I beg you on my knees, Sir, please, do whatever you want to me, but… spare my children." Her voice was broken like her strength. She would do anything to protect her children, even satisfy the cravings of this bastard.

"I think the seven of us are going to have a lot of fun together, you Protestant whore." The lieutenant stood in front of her and grabbed her long, jet-black hair. "Spare my children..." were the last words he let her utter before he finally closed her mouth.


	7. Where's Father?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margret and Selberg arrive at the Town Hall, but her father isn't there...

Türger was busy in the town hall. He kept running with his arms full of files down to the basement and up again to fetch the next pile. Understandably, he was more than surprised when suddenly the door to the council chamber flew open and a breathless Margret, completely disheveled, stood in front of him.

"Father! Father, I ... O, he's not here?” she asked, but it was more of a statement than a question. Then she noticed how Türger looked at her puzzled and aghast, especially since he was having trouble holding the documents that had almost slipped out of his hands in shock.

“Maid Margret, what on earth has happened? Is it your mother? Is your house on fire?” he asked, putting the files on the mayor's desk.

“Quickly, Türger, tell me where to find my father. The situation is dire.” “Your father set off for Linden Street not long ago. He was convinced that his help was needed there,” he answered.

With a hint of worry and disappointment, she turned to the windows and stared absently out into the shadows cast by the fires. “Oh, father. Why do you always put yourself in such unnecessary danger?” she whispered to her reflection in the window pane. "He didn't say by chance when he would be back?" She asked, but she didn't expect an answer. She knew her father too well for that.

"No, unfortunately not. I think he won't come back until the fire is under control. I wish I could tell you more.”

Hundreds of different thoughts shot through her head. Her mother was going to die, Margret was aware of that for a few days, because the fever did not go down, let alone that she had not gained strength in the past days, but rather lost it. With her growing weakness she had got these visions, and slowly even Margret began to worry about these visions.

When she was a child she had heard stories that the gift of the second sight often appeared to the dying, but she had never given much thought to these scary stories. Was it possible that her mother had visions about the future? And if so, what did she mean with enemy? Did she really mean that something would happen to her husband before Christmas? And would that have something to do with the threat posed by the soldiers? Would he have to negotiate with them until Christmas was over and have to make such big concessions that it could practically mean something like his death?

Questions over questions to which Margret could not find an answer. All these thoughts gave her a headache. What if he was just too daring and found death in the flames?

The door flew open and a young man with blackened face rushed in, totally out of breath. "Peter? What are you doing here?" Türger asked. "Mayor… Mayor Duisberg… he…" the boy panted, still out of breath. "Father? What happened? Did something happen to him?" Margret asked immediately, her voice shaking with anticipation. "Let the boy catch his breath, good Maid." Türger said, reaching the panting boy a glass of wine. "Here, drink this. And then tell us what happened."

Peter downed the wine and wiped the sweat off his forehead, releasing the pale skin under the black soot. "Now tell, what happened to my father." Margret urged him. "Lummer's child was trapped in the fire. Nobody dared saving it. But your father plunged right into this inferno to save her. My brother Michael and I followed him to help." he stopped for a cough. 

"What?! Is he well?" she asked nervously. Meanwhile Selberg, who had been waiting outside, also entered the room and listened. "Don't worry, he is. He found the girl, but a falling beam hit him. Michael accompanies him here, but he sent me to help Türger with the paper stuff." Peter closed.

“You have to excuse me, but I have to go. If he is injured, he will need my help.” Margret said and fear and nervousness swung in her voice as she made her way to the door.

“Maid Margret, stay here. You heard that he's on his way.” Selberg tried to hold her back. Margret turned to him. “You must forgive me, Selberg, but there is nothing that can hold me. Please have the goodness and wait here.” she said and walked out the door with her skirt billowing.

Türger, on the other hand, remembered the task that had preoccupied him before Duisberg's daughter stormed in so excitedly. He picked up the files from the table and pressed them into Peter’s soot-blackened hands. "Bring this to the basement quickly.” he said excitedly and Peter ran out again and down the stairs in the direction of the cellar.

Now Türger turned to the farmer, who meanwhile was also standing at the window, watching the fire. "And what urgent business do you have that you want to speak to the mayor?" Selberg could not detach himself from the sight. He continued to look absently out of the window as he answered Türger's question. “Forgive me, but what I have to say concerns the Mayor... alone.” Türger was extremely astonished at the bold tone that the farmer adopted. "Well, yes, but what could be worse than this dreadful misfortune," he said.

Selberg preferred not to utter a word anymore. Of course he could have told Türger and returned home with things done, but why? What should Türger be able to do? No, the Mayor's personal presence was required. Then Selberg could also be sure that there wasn't a terrible panic before Duisberg even heard about it.

His thoughts drifted off. They revolved around his wife and the misled soldiers. Were they already back on the right track or were they still moving towards Dahlsen? But no, they couldn't be that stupid either. They must have turned back long ago and had already found a place to camp outside Iserlohn.

He had been away now for about an hour and wondered if they would pass his farm again... and what they might do if they did. Whatever happened in the time of his absence, if they dared touch his family, he would take terrible vengeance, may it cost his life.

A young man and Margret entered the council chamber, holding a desperately coughing Duisberg between them. He was a terrible sight, his face as black as the face of young Peter, a bleeding laceration over his left eyebrow.

“Sit down, Father. You have to rest.” Margret said reassuringly and Türger hurried to adjust Duisberg's armchair. 

They let him slide carefully into it and Margret hurried to find water. Then she got down on one knee, tore off a strip of her skirt, moistened it, and carefully started cleaning his wound. Duisberg's face twisted painfully and he flinched.

"Forgive me, father, but your wound must be cleaned." She took his hand. "Just squeeze, father, when the pain gets too much for you," she said and rinsed the cloth. “Let it be, daughter. It's not worth mentioning.” he muttered, but his daughter was not deterred. “Such a wound is not to be trifled with.” When she had cleaned the wound, she turned around briefly and saw that Selberg was still there.

“Father, someone has to speak to you. It's very, very important,” she said, rinsing the piece of cloth and starting to clean her father's face. Her hand hurt because her father squeezed it in pain, but she was strong enough not to show it. "I know you. Your name is Selberg, or am I mistaking you?" Dusiberg asked, giving in to his strong urge to cough. When he had calmed down again, Selberg gave him an answer.

“You are not, dear Mayor. Selberg is my name. I'm a farmer from Kesbern. I have important news for you.” He gave Duisberg a look, then looked around and turned back to the Mayor. "And only for you."


	8. The Enemy's Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The soldiers slowly settle in their camp. The deceived Colonel sits alone and thinks about things...

There was hustle and bustle in the camp. A platoon of dragoons and two platoons of lancers already camped there. When the story of the farmer and the wrong way to Dahlsen got around, there was general laughter.

Colonel Stachwitz, however, was not amused. On the contrary, he was immeasurably annoyed by the mistake of believing the farmer and by the fact that he had been ridiculed by the other soldiers all evening.

So he sat alone by his little campfire and watched the young fellows pitch their tents, make a few more fires, and then start to get drunk without mind. Drunk was the right word for it. Alcohol before and after a battle was not uncommon, but he thought the fellows overdid it. The young captain was the most sensible of this group of children, but never drunk, a paragon of discipline and obedience and a brilliant tactician and strategist. Without him the last fights would have ended differently. Stachwitz was firmly convinced that the young Hoelscher had a promising career... at least if he finally stopped to discuss with the General. Stachwitz had tried that himself already. There was no discussion with Boenninghausen. Period.

Hoelscher was also extremely popular with the soldiers. For them he never was a superior officer, he was one of them, young, full of zest for action and, which earned him the greatest amount of love, he was always in for a joke. He had only one trait that Stachwitz did not like. He thought too little about the world apart from war. But that was probably the only point in which he was d'accord with the General, for he lived only for war, too.

Stachwitz wondered about that. After all, he was born in a place just a few kilometers from here, Deilinghofen. He should have some relatives there, but he hadn't done anything on the way here to give a sign of life. He hadn't even sent a messenger. Either Boenninghausen was really alone in the world or he was the coldest soul Stachwitz had ever met. Yet the young soldiers followed him with eagerness.

In any case, he had charisma, the Colonel admitted that. Before the war he must have been a very handsome man with his intense eyes and high cheekbones. Although being a man himself, he could not escape the spell of those colourshifting eyes. Even the scar under his right eye didn't change that. However, this charisma was on very shaky feet if he did not manage to take this city. Then at least half of his men would run away because he hadn't paid them for over a month. Today he had heard some soldiers say they wanted to go to Wallenstein instead. Perhaps the General's sometimes sudden brutality and his rapid mood swings also contributed to this. Because even if the soldiers were eager; they didn't like him. Some even feared him and said that the devil himself lived behind those eyes.

Stachwitz didn't give much on such chatter, but he too felt a certain aversion to his commanding officer. Should he ever be allowed to experience the young Hoelscher to become a general, he would serve more willingly for him than for Boenninghausen. The Captain was only twenty-one, but he had gone from soldier to Captain in just two and a half years. Even in wartime, that spoke a clear language of his abilities. The soldiers adored him, even Stachwitz valued him very much. He had never found a better man.

“Colonel Stachwitz, the General sent me. You may come to his tent.” Stachwitz recognized the voice and looked up to his Captain “I was just thinking of you. You look worried, Hoelscher. Is it that bad for me?” Hoelscher avoided his gaze. “The general is not… pleased... about your delay.” “Your eyes tell me that you are sparing me. They always betray you, Hoelscher. You're not a liar.” Hoelscher resumed eye contact. "To put it bluntly, he's raving about your confidence."

Stachwitz struggled to his feet. “Then I'd better go to him right away. What do you think he's hatching for me?” “I think he'll let you lead the attack on the south gate.” Stachwitz took a deep breath and straightened his posture. "So be it," he said and went to Boenninghausen's tent, accompanied by the captain, who entered first. "General? The Colonel is here." "Thank you, Captain Let him enter, please." 

A cold shiver ran down the Colonel's spine. He knew the soft baritone and vocal range of his General only too well. This soft, almost velvety and compassionate, sound was no good sign… never. He already knew the General's intimidating and colourshifting eyes were burning with anger before he even entered the tent.


	9. The Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The soldiers have finally arrived and settle in for the night. The Colonel spends his time alone with his thoughts.

There was hustle and bustle in the camp. A platoon of dragoons and two platoons of lancers already camped there. When the story of the farmer and the wrong way to Dahlsen got around, there was general laughter.

Colonel Stachwitz, however, was not amused. On the contrary, he was immeasurably annoyed by the mistake of believing the farmer and by the fact that he had been ridiculed by the other soldiers all evening.

So he sat alone by his little campfire and watched the young fellows pitch their tents, make a few more fires, and then start to get drunk without mind. Drunk was the right word for it. Alcohol before and after a battle was not uncommon, but he thought the fellows overdid it. The young captain was the most sensible of this group of children, but never drunk, a paragon of discipline and obedience and a brilliant tactician and strategist. Without him the last fights would have ended differently. Stachwitz was firmly convinced that the young Hoelscher had a promising career... at least if he finally stopped to discuss with the General. Stachwitz had tried that himself already. There was no discussion with Boenninghausen. Period.

Hoelscher was also extremely popular with the soldiers. For them he never was a superior officer, he was one of them, young, full of zest for action and, which earned him the greatest amount of love, he was always in for a joke. He had only one trait that Stachwitz did not like. He thought too little about the world apart from war. But that was probably the only point in which he was d'accord with the General, for he lived only for war, too.

Stachwitz wondered about that. After all, he was born in a place just a few kilometers from here, Deilinghofen. He should have some relatives there, but he hadn't done anything on the way here to give a sign of life. He hadn't even sent a messenger. Either Boenninghausen was really alone in the world or he was the coldest soul Stachwitz had ever met. Yet the young soldiers followed him with eagerness.

In any case, he had charisma, the Colonel admitted that. Before the war he must have been a very handsome man with his intense eyes and high cheekbones. Although being a man himself, he could not escape the spell of those colourshifting eyes. Even the scar under his right eye didn't change that. However, this charisma was on very shaky feet if he did not manage to take this city. Then at least half of his men would run away because he hadn't paid them for over a month. Today he had heard some soldiers say they wanted to go to Wallenstein instead. Perhaps the General's sometimes sudden brutality and his rapid mood swings also contributed to this. Because even if the soldiers were eager; they didn't like him. Some even feared him and said that the devil himself lived behind those colourshifting eyes.

Stachwitz didn't give much on such chatter, but he too felt a certain aversion to his commanding officer. Should he ever be allowed to experience the young Hoelscher to become a general, he would serve more willingly for him than for Boenninghausen. The Captain was only twenty-one, but he had gone from soldier to Captain in just two and a half years. Even in wartime, that spoke a clear language of his abilities. The soldiers adored him, even Stachwitz valued him very much. He had never found a better man.

“Colonel Stachwitz, the General sent me. You may come to his tent.” Stachwitz recognized the voice and looked up to his Captain “I was just thinking of you. You look worried, Hoelscher. Is it that bad for me?” Hoelscher avoided his gaze. “The general is not… pleased... about your delay.” “Your eyes tell me that you are sparing me. They always betray you, Hoelscher. You're not a liar.” Hoelscher resumed eye contact. "To put it bluntly, he's raving about your confidence."

Stachwitz struggled to his feet. “Then I'd better go to him right away. What do you think he's hatching for me?” “I think he'll let you lead the attack on the south gate.” Stachwitz took a deep breath and straightened his posture. "So be it," he said and went to Boenninghausen's tent, accompanied by the captain, who entered first. "General? The Colonel is here." "Thank you, Captain Let him enter, please." 

A cold shiver ran down the Colonel's spine. He knew the soft baritone and vocal range of his General only too well. This soft, almost velvety and compassionate, sound was no good sign… never. He already knew the General's intimidating and colourshifting eyes were burning with anger before he even entered the tent.


	10. Bad Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duisberg remembers the day that started his feud with Boenninghausen...

"Indeed, you couldn't bring me any worse news," he said thoughtfully and looked out the window. "What does Heaven have against us that it imposes such severe tests on us?" He said softly, but more to himself than to Selberg. “Mayor, I'm sorry I had to bring you this message.” “No, please, Selberg. It was good that you came. ”Duisberg tried to calm him down. Selberg rose from his chair and walked to the door.

“You will forgive me, Mayor, but my only desire is to return to my family. I'm sure they'll worry about me.” he said with a trace of uneasiness in his voice. “I owe you deepest gratitude, dear Selberg.” Duisberg said, got up and went to him to shake his hand. Then Selberg walked out quickly.

Duisberg went to the window. A few flames still licked up to the sky and bathed it in their red glow. The sight worried him even more than a few minutes ago. “The glow of the fire will show them the way to the city. Tomorrow they will probably be lurking at the gates. O, if only it weren't Boenninghausen.“ he thought, leaning his forehead against the cool glass. Actually, he didn't hate him. The hatred rather came from Boenninghausen. After all, twenty years ago he had sworn enmity to Duisberg.

Duisberg turned away from the window and closed the door. Then he leaned his back heavily against it. “Why did it have to be Boenninghausen of all possibilities? Why couldn't they send him to somewhere else?” Duisberg thought.

He folded his hands behind his back and started pacing nervously. After a while his eyes fell on the wooden cross hanging over the door, and he stopped, staring at it.

What kind of God allowed people living fraternally under the same heaven to slaughter one another over a question of faith? To start a war because of faith, now going on for fifteen long years, could not have been in God's mind. At least that was Duisberg's humble opinion.

He stopped thinking about such possibilities. It was pointless to contemplate such thoughts and he averted his gaze from the cross, went back to his chair and sat down with heavy heart. The memories rushed in, unbidden.

~ ~ ~

It had been a sunny June day. Everyone in town enjoyed life and did their work happily and exhilarated. Duisberg had been an apprentice in his uncle's office, which he was supposed to take over.

The father of young Boenninghausen and his son had come to town from Deilinghofen to do business with Duisberg's uncle. This was how they had met each other for the first time, both as future heirs to their relatives' contores. Their families thought they might befriend. But strangely enough, even then, he hadn't been overly sympathetic to the young man with the colourshifting eyes, although Duisberg wasn't able to say why. But that didn't necessarily mean anything. Duisberg was firmly convinced that he had to give Boenninghausen and himself some time.

Then it had come, that unfortunate twelfth July, 1613! Boenninghausen and his father had been in the city for about two days now, because somehow they both sensed a certain charm about this old town with its almost four hundred year history, and the Duisbergs spent a lot of time with them.

This day young Duisberg was roaming the forest. He loved the peace and tranquility there, to enjoy its silence. He had felt the need to escape the narrow walls of the city and the hustle and bustle of its inhabitants.

For a long time he had wandered through the forest quietly and lost in thought, wondering if he was really made for a dusty contore.

Suddenly he was startled from his thoughts. It was as if he had heard something. Indeed, soon afterwards he heard it again. It had been a woman's scream, and it seemed to have come from the clearing to the northeast. Duisberg bent down and picked up a thick, dry branch from the ground. He was sure there was a woman in need and ran in the direction, wondering what had happened to the poor soul that made it cry out for help so urgently. Maybe she had been attacked by a wolf or a fox and needed help.

He had expected just about everything, but not the sight that was presented to him, and so he literally froze in horror. A young maiden with golden hair and skin as white as milk stood with her back to a maple tree. A young fellow with ginger hair covered her mouth with one hand.

"I don't want to hurt you, beautiful.” he said in a velvety baritone and tore her dress on the left shoulder. She looked at him panicked, tried to scream and push him away, but she was too weak to break free. Young Duisberg slowly crept closer, holding the dry branch tightly in his hand.

"You'll never make fun of me again." the young fellow said, and now Duisberg recognized his voice. It was none other than young Boenninghausen who oppressed and tormented the helpless maiden there. Grasping the branch with both hands, he jumped out from between the trees and struck with all the strength he could muster. Badly hit, Boenninghausen fell to the ground. Blood flowed down his face from a laceration, making him look like someone had tried to split his skull.

“How dare you, you disgusting dog? I had never thought you'd do something like this!” Duisberg shouted with immense anger and took the girl protectively in his arms.

Boenninghausen struggled to his feet and stared at Duisberg. Blood dripped from his chin onto his white shirt, forming a slowly growing red stain on his chest. Hot anger began to sparkle in his gray-green eyes as he stared into Duisberg's.

"See that you get away, you spawn of hell! I never want to see you again. Luck for all innocent girls in Iserlohn that you and your father are leaving tomorrow. God grant that I never have to see your face again.” young Henrich spat at him, hugging the young girl even tighter when he saw Boenninghausen's anger.

“You will regret that, Duisberg. I swear... one day you will atone for this and curse the day you were born.” Boenninghausen growled and Duisberg had never seen so much deep hatred burn in someone's eyes. Boenninghausen touched his forehead and felt the warm, sticky blood on it. “Be certain, Duisberg, one day you will wish this had never happened. You will beg the Allmighty to turn back time,” he said through clenched teeth and left the clearing.

In fact, Duisberg had quickly forgotten this story, because the young girl he had saved fell in love with her radiant savior and protector and hardly a year later they were married.

~ ~ ~

His thoughts returned to the present and he strongly doubted that Boenninghausen had forgotten the events in the forest.

What more bad news did Heaven have for him? First his beloved Anne fell ill with this unspeakable flu, then a lightning struck Linden Street and burned almost the whole street, and now there was this Army at the gates, the Army of the man who had sworn him eternal revenge.

Duisberg had heard enough about Boenninghausen in the fifteen years of war to worry about his city. He was still very young when he was promoted General after five years. How much suffering could he have seen in all the years? And what was going on in a person that would voluntarily send other people to their almost certain death?

Duisberg tried to stop thinking because he had the feeling that otherwise his skull would burst. Such a heavy burden had never been on his shoulders. He would never understand and never approve of this unspeakable war. He had put his life in the service of the city and its people. He had always wanted their wellbeing and protection.


	11. Tactics and A Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Captain explains the tactics for the attack. And his soldiers capture someone they think is spying on them.

“Silence, men! Silence! Everyone, come closer and listen to me for a moment so I can explain the tactics for tomorrow's attack. I would be extremely dissatisfied if too much went wrong again in the twilight.” The Captain shouted with a loud, yet gentle tenor in his voice. The soldiers slowly formed groups around the fire and fell silent to hear what the Captain had to tell them. When the shuffling of feet had stopped, Hoelscher raised his voice again.

“So, listen. Our attack is to begin tomorrow morning at dusk. The city has five gates and solid walls enclose and protect it. The attack is supposed to start at the northern gate, but it is only supposed to be a sham attack. While all attention will be directed there, the southern gate will lie defenseless in front of us. The main thrust should then take place there and pave the way for us into the city. This thrust shall be carried by Captain Hoelscher… meaning, me."

Astonished silence spread among the soldiers. “And by order of tbe General, you are allowed to plunder the city as you please. That may make up for the missing pay.” the Captain continued. The soldiers cheered.

“Silence, I wasn't finished yet! I have two more things to tell you from the General First of all, you should make sure that no fire breaks out in the city, because as some of you may have noticed from the red glow of the sky, a fire has probably raged in the city recently. So be careful with fires, because the city is supposed to serve as a garrison for about two to three months. In addition, the General wants the Mayor of the city. His name is Duisberg and he is supposed to be a wicked villain. But before you have false thoughts, the General wishes this man to be brought alive and unharmed. Now go to sleep and then silence in the camp. "

Obediently the soldiers dispersed to the other fires. Hoelscher went back to his tent, in front of which the Colonel was sitting by the fire. 

Hoelscher poked the flames with a twig. “I am sorry the General has withdrawn his trust in you. That could have happened to each of us as well.” “You are a good man, Hoelscher. And you have your heart in the right place. I wish I had met you before the war.” “I was a child then, not even dry behind the ears.” “You're right. This damn war has been going on for far too long now. I very much hope that at least you will see its end."

He too took a branch and poked around in the flames, his gaze fixed on the profile of the Captain, whose shoulder-long, dark hair waved lightly in front of his face in the cool night breeze. Even in this poor light, Stachwitz recognized the melancholy expression that was reflected in Hoelscher's eyes. “Something is bothering you, Hoelscher. One would have to be blind not to see that. If you want to confide in someone, I can be silent. "

Hoelscher's mouth twitched under his narrow mustache. “You are very kind to me, Colonel. You always have been. But I don't want to burden you with my thoughts.” “If you should think about it, don't hesitate to come and see me.” Hoelscher looked at the Colonel and Stachwitz saw a silent expression of gratitude in his dark brown eyes. “Your foolish Colonel would like to give you some advice along the way. No matter what may happen, Hoelscher, never forget your compassion. Please promise me that you will always keep your good heart, despite the war.” Hoelscher looked deeply into his Colonel's eyes. “I'll do that, Colonel. On my honor.” At that moment a commotion broke out in the camp.

“Stand, you spy!” “Cut his way!” Hoelscher could hear these and similar calls as he hurriedly grabbed his sword belt and put it around his waist while running. “We'll get you anyway!” shouted a soldier who wanted to run past Hoelscher. He grabbed his shoulder.

"Report! What's this riot? I ordered silence.” The soldier immediately came to attention. “A spy, Captain. He was spotted sneaking around the camp.” “Then catch him. But he won't be touched. When you have him, you bring him to me for interrogation, understand?” “Yes, Sir! ”The soldier ran off and disappeared between the tents, the Captain followed him.

The man in question was pulled into the glow of the fire from another side of the camp. Soldiers immediately gathered around him. Hoelscher struggled to get through the crowd, even his strong voice failed before the screams of his men. When he finally reached the place under the torches he found that some of the men were already trying to make the intruder compliant with lances and kicks. "Stop it!" he ordered and dragged one of the soldiers back from him. "And now I want to know what's going on here!" The soldiers let go of the man and stood in a circle around him and the Captain.

“That dog tried to spy on us, Captain. Certainly he was sent to find out about our plans.” Hoelscher looked down and up at his figure before looking him in the eye. "Ensign, you are as stupid as you are long." Then he leaned down to the man and looked at his hands. "When were simple peasants sent as spies to eavesdrop on an army?"

The addressed Ensign looked down and said nothing more. "For your stupidity, you stay behind guarding the camp tomorrow, understand?" The Ensign nodded in embarrassment. “I didn't understand you, Ensign.” "Yes, Captain.” “Good. Get up, good man.” Hoelscher held out his hand to the peasant and helped him to his feet.

“And now tell me, what were you doing here at this hour?” “I was on the way home to my farm. I come from the city where I made preparations for my child's baptism. When I saw the camp, I tried to sneak around. Unfortunately unsuccessful.” “Tear out his tongue for this lie!” a soldier shouted from the crowd. “You better watch yours!” Hoelscher shouted back and turned back to his captive. “And your farm is still far from here?” “Not very. Maybe another half an hour's walk in that direction,” the farmer said, pointing in the direction of his farm.

"I know you, you son of a bitch! You're the guy who sent us to Dahlsen!” one of the soldiers in the front row shouted. Angry murmurs went through the soldier's rows. "Is that true, farmer?" the Captain asked and received a nod in response. “Then the city dwellers have been warned! Hang him, that bastard!” Hoelscher pulled the farmer closer to himself. “The man won't be touched! I do not tolerate torture and lynching! Sergeant Basse, take care of the man. You are responsible for him with your life. I'll go and tell the General. "

As soon as the Captain had gone, an officer approached the farmer. “I hope you had your fun, peasant. But I assure you, we had ours, too.” Selberg looked at the soldier and didn't respond. “And you don't have to rush to get home. There's not much left of it.” Satisfied, the officer noticed that the expression of concern appeared on Selberg's face and began to smile. “Nobody is waiting for you on your farm. But I have to confess that it's a pity with your wife. She served us so well.” Selberg's face twitched. Anyone near him could see the force with which he pressed his teeth together. "And your daughter was an excellent dessert."

Selberg tore a lance out of the hands of one of the guards and struck at the soldier who just managed to avoid the tip of the lance. The farmer lashed out wildly, some of the soldiers backed away, whoever was too slow was hit by the powerful blows. The Sergeant was overrun by the soldiers who pounced on the farmer. He was soon no longer to be seen in a ball of bodies and limbs. A gurgling scream tore the air and Basse knew the farmer couldn't be saved. One of the soldiers had struck him down. Some of them grabbed his body and dragged it behind them by the feet. When the Captain returned, alarmed by the scream, he only found the frozen Basse there. 

“What happened?” “I ... Captain, I ... I couldn't do anything. There were too many. The farmer attacked the soldiers after one of the Lieutenants had provoked him.” “Tell me what happened.” Basse told him about the incident. When he repeated the Lieutenant's provocation, Hoelscher caught his breath. “Come with me, Basse. The General must know this immediately."

They went in the direction of Boenninghausen's tent. Suddenly a young soldier stood in their way. “Please, Captain, may I have a word?” “It must wait, Fichtner. I urgently need to report to the General.” “It's about the Lieutenant. About... what he said to the farmer. I belonged to the group that attacked the farmer's house." Fichtner's brown eyes twitched fearfully from the Captain to the General's tent and back again. “What is it, Fichtner? What are you afraid of? If you know more, you should accompany us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You are as stupid as you are long." is a common term of offence in german.


	12. Atrocities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The young soldier tells what actually happened at Selberg's farm...

Fichtner took a step back. “Please don't, Captain. When the General finds out what happened, he will have us all shot. That's why I come to you. I know you are a just man… knowing about command and obedience."

Hoelscher and Basse looked at each other, then Basse put his hand on the young lad's shoulder. "Then let's take a seat by a fire and you just tell the two of us what happened." Fichtner nodded and sat down with them, noticing the Colonel with a flinch.

“Don't worry about Colonel Stachwitz. He can be silent if need be, and he won't judge you too hastily, just like Sergeant Basse and I won't. ”Fichtner swallowed hard and shuddered. “Here, take a sip. Strengthens the nerves and loosens the tongue.” the Colonel said and handed the young lad his mug of brandy. With trembling hands Fichtner took the mug and took a deep drag that made him cough badly.

"What devil's stuff," he gasped and handed the Colonel his mug. “You haven't been with us long, have you?” “No, at the beginning of the campaign I was assigned to the General.” “That was six weeks ago.” “Yes, Sergeant. And that's exactly how long I'm a soldier.” “Well, then we can at least understand why you are so afraid of the General. The rumors among the team ranks are worst. Rest assured, the General is just as human as you and me. Admittedly, his punishments are severe, but it's needed to keep order in the troop." Basse said. Fichtner just listened in silence and nodded.

“Now tell us what is upsetting you, boy. You are a hunter, aren't you? Then you went to the army voluntarily.” Fichtner nodded and looked at the Captain. “I already regret volunteering. I'm not made for this." His gaze slid into the warm, yellow flames of the campfire. 

“You know, it started after we were told we were going the wrong way. Our Lieutenant looked for the ones appearing the most angry about the deception and put us together on, what he called, a little punitive expedition. Since we had to pass this farm again, we let ourselves fall back further and further and when the time came, we made our way to the farm, unnoticed. The plan was simple: confront the farmer and punish him for his lie. How he wanted to punish him, I only know now. If only I hadn't gone with him... or at least stopped him."

Fichtner's hands started to tremble again. “Don't blame yourself, Fichtner. You are too young to have known what was going to happen." The Captain said in a soft voice and put his hand on his trembling shoulder.

“So we came to the farm and a little girl came out of the house, maybe ten years old, and only wearing a nightgown. The Lieutenant immediately grabbed her and covered her mouth. Then he told one of us to kick in the door and we went into the house. We only found the farmer's wife and her little son there. With the lives of the children, the Lieutenant blackmailed her to give us the information that her husband was already on his way to the city. We took the children to the stable, then we violated the woman, all six of us. Nobody complained, nobody said anything against it, not even me. It seemed the appropriate punishment for her husband's behavior. But when we got the children... to punish them too, I resisted. The Lieutenant ordered me to keep watch outside… with drawn saber on my throat."

Tears sparkled in his brown eyes as he looked at the Captain. “Please, Captain, I feared for my life when I looked into the Lieutenant's eyes. I obeyed and kept watch at the door. Comrade Fuchs told me what happened when he left the house. The little boy's throat was cut. The woman injured three of us with a dagger, Hardenberg so badly that the Lieutenant gave him the Coup de Grâce. Riedel could only disarm her because he broke her wrist. Then she was tied up and gagged and had to watch the Lieutenant violate her little daughter. Riedel had tried to hold him back, but he couldn't either. Then he left both, the woman and the girl, tied up in the house... and set it on fire. "

The young hunter clutched his knees and his body slowly began to rock back and forth. “I can still hear the little worm scream.” Hoelscher saw the boy turn pale and held out his hand for the mug of brandy, which the Colonel immediately handed him. He carefully put his arm around the young soldier and held the mug to his lips. Fichtner emptied the cup in one go. Hoelscher saw the horror in everyone's eyes and could understand it. He too felt a slight rumble in the stomach area.

“Basse, please, go to the General's tent. Ask him here, whatever you have to do to convince him.” The Sergeant nodded, got up and went to the General's tent. “Please don't, Captain. I can't repeat this story in front of him.” Fichtner whimpered and grabbed his Captain by the shoulders, weeping. Hoelscher saw the panic in his eyes. “What's your name, boy?” “Stefan... Please, Captain, please don't call the General. "

Hoelscher put his hands on the young soldier's cheeks and looked deep into his eyes. “My dear, young Stefan. How old are you actually?” “Fifteen, Captain.” “And do you trust me? Honestly?” Fichtner nodded and tears ran down his cheeks. The Captain wiped them away fatherly. “I will protect you, Stefan. Of the General and especially of the Lieutenant. Do you believe me?” Fichtner nodded again and blinked one last tear from the corner of his eye. Hoelscher pulled him gently to his chest. “No, let it out. Don't suppress your despair, Stefan. Free your soul from this burden."

The young hunter clasped his Captain and cried. Hoelscher felt him sobbing and put a comforting hand on his curly hair. “Say your opinion, Colonel.” “His description disgusts me. That must result in a punishment. For everyone involved. Question is, who participated?” Hoelscher felt the young hunter stiffen. “Who else was on this expedition, Stefan? Tell me.” “Fuchs, Hardenberg, Riedel, Steiger, the Lieutenant and me,” he sobbed. "Well, except for the officer, everyone just newbies," the Colonel stated. Hoelscher nodded in confirmation. “Do you have another sip of brandy? I confess, I need one myself.” Stachwitz handed him a small canteen. The Captain took a long swig and grimaced in disgust. “The boy is right, this is devil's stuff.”

Hoelscher felt the boy slowly calm down in his arms and stroked his head like a father. "After all what happened tonight, I hope the General is in a mercyful mood."

“You should know, Captain, mercy is a foreign word to me.” Hoelscher looked up at this soft baritone and saw the General and the Sergeant standing by the fire. Stachwitz rose and saluted. "Now tell me, Captain, what is all this about?" the General asked with strict blue-green eyes.


	13. More Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Medicus brings horrible news... one too much for our brave Mayor, it seems...

Duisberg went back to the windows and stared out. For a long time he stood there lost in thought when there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he said quietly without taking his attention from the windows. The door was pushed open and the Medicus stormed in, breathless and with nervous twitching eyes. “What brings you here, Medicus? I do not hope that you are here for my treatment, because there are people who need your help more than I do.” Duisberg said.

"No, Mayor. I come with a frightening message," he replied. Duisberg closed his eyes and sat down. What could Heaven have in store for him now? “So this would be the third bad message brought to me today. Speak then, what bad news do you have?” he asked and prepared himself for the next catastrophe. "Do you feel good? You look miserable.” The medicus evaded.

“I really don't need your services. Now tell me what burdens your soul.“ The medicus swallowed nervously. “So let me tell you. I was called to Lohkampmueller. When I got there, it took my breath away. Mayor, be strong. It's the plague."

Duisberg closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. All of a sudden he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach as if he were going to vomit. He couldn't see his own face, but he was sure that he was turning white. “To the infirmary, immediately," he said, trying to sound as impassive as possible. But reality was different. He felt powerless, felt that everything was slipping through his fingers. "I've already made sure of that, Mayor." The Medicus tried to calm him, but Duisberg was anything but calm.

“Medicus, I have only one request. Do everything in your power to keep this... in check." he said in a voice, as if he were hoping for miracles. "I cannot work miracles, Mayor, but I'll try the best I can." “Thank you, Medicus.” The Medicus bowed in farewell and left again.

Now Duisberg really felt close to madness. Restlessly he rose and paced up and down. Thoughts raced in his head, but he didn't know what to do. He was on the verge of despair. He fixed the wooden cross above the door, being certain that Heaven was testing them. An irrational sense of guilt filled his heart. Slowly he walked to the door and turned the key. With the safe feeling that no bad news could come in anymore, Duisberg sank to his knees, folded his hands and felt hot tears of fear and despair flow down his cheeks as he bowed his head. For the first time in his life he felt broken. “Dear God, please hear my prayer. I've never been a particularly zealous Christian, and I've been to church even less often. I have always felt a greater need to care for my people. So I ask you, do not take your blessing from us... now that the city is facing its worst sufferings. The Iserlohners are good people, really, dear God. Their heart might not be the softest, but it is in the right place. We may have deserved the lightning strike because we weren't strong in faith, maybe we even deserve the troops of Boenninghausen for it. But I beg you, Lord in Heaven, do not punish us with the plague. Aren't the lives of autumn enough?" Duisberg sat back on his heels, buried his face in his hands and let his emotions run free. His chest seemed constricted by a thousand invisible cords, at the same time he had the feeling that his heart was torn in his chest. Strangled cries of desperation came from his dry throat and tears streamed down his cheeks. All of his suffering lay in them. Worry about his family, the city, his helplessness against the impending plague, the subliminal fear of losing his wife and the uncertainty of what to do with the soldiers outside the city. He knew deep down that negotiations were inevitable. For the first time in his life he hated his job. Slowly the bitter stream of tears dried up. Duisberg took a deep breath and raised his gaze to the cross again. “Dear God, forgive me the selfish words that my deep despair made me speak. It is so easy to criticize your wisdom. I beseech you, give me the strength to bear this burden." Duisberg wiped the tears from his cheeks. He felt better now than a few moments ago. An unusual lightness lay in his heart. He knew what to do. The council members had to be called to decide about negotiations with Boenninghausen. It had to be, there was no doubt about it. But what to do, he couldn't decide on his own, although he would have given his arm rather than surrendering his city. But that was up to the Council to decide. There was a wild knock on the door to the council chamber. Duisberg unlockd the door. A city messenger stood in front of it, his face twisted with worry. “Well, good man, what do you have to report?” Duisberg asked calmly. Certainly nothing would disturb him anymore. “Mayor, the whole Lägertal is full of the enemy." Duisberg had to laugh inside. Exactly what he had prophesied to the farmer a short time ago. "What should we do now, Mayor?" the young city messenger asked. Duisberg opened the door a little further. “Masters Grevink and Ballot should come here immediately. Hurry up.” The messenger clapped his heels and disappeared. Duisberg called for Türger and asked him to fetch the key to the armory. Then he gave orders to have the walls occupied and to keep watch. No matter what happened, he had to start acting somewhere. A short time later, Grevink and Ballot hurried in. Duisberg explained the situation and asked them to post their people at the gates and to support the guards on the walls. “But one thing has to be ensured. Not a single shot until morning, no matter what. Not from the walls and not within the city. You must swear to me that you will take care of it. I will try to negotiate with the enemy. If even one shot is fired, our fate could be sealed.” "Be assured, Mayor, we will take care of it," promised Grevink. With that, Duisberg dismissed them so that they could carry out their duties and turned to Türger. “Türger, please take care that the councilors come to me immediately. We need an emergency council." Türger nodded and left. Alone again, he began to consider the possible options. By far the worst seemed to be the surrender of the city. He had received enough reports in the past few years and had seen for himself that surrender did not save cities from devastation. At the other extreme, just keep quiet and wait for the attack. That was not an option either, at least not a realistic one. Iserlohn was not a heavily fortified city that could endure a siege for weeks. And even with this possibility, sooner or later the city would be conquered and the soldiers would come over them like the vandals. The only option was to negotiate with their Commander. And that was Boenninghausen. Duisberg became more and more aware of one fact. No matter what the councilors might decide, it was HE who would and must meet the General. The negotiator's choice was no longer a choice, it was a certainty. He sat down and leaned back, closing his eyes. A gentle smile crept onto his face. “I am ready, Lothar. Although I hoped I never had to see you again.” he said quietly to himself. At that moment there was a knock on the door and the first councilors entered. 


	14. Duties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duisberg has a visitor before the council meeting.

Duisberg couldn't say that he felt particularly comfortable in his skin. Orders to city guards and defense teams were given, but no one could guarantee that the men might not lose their nerve sooner or later. Many of them were still very young, after all, and none of them had ever witnessed an attack on the city, let alone an eventual siege. When the Spaniards or French overran the city, they had been either baby boys or not born. A great responsibility lay on their shoulders.

Duisberg could only hope that in the end they didn't pull the trigger because of their own shadow. He had given orders to get all the councilors out of their homes, now he was waiting for them to assemble when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said softly. The door opened slowly and his youngest daughter came in. "Caterina? Sweet child, what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here.” “Neither should you, father. Mother suffers in her fever. Margret spoke of bad visions that haunt her. Visions that concern you. Didn't she tell you?” “No, she didn't say a word. And the farmer brought far worse news," Duisberg replied. "Yes I know. Margret told us...” “Then you also know that my place is here. I have my duties."

Caterina started walking around the chairs angrily. "Duties! Duties! You always have duties. But you forget the most important of all duties. Your family!” Duisberg knew only too well that she was really angry now. When anger seized his youngest daughter, she always spoke to him like her own mother.

“Have you forgotten about us? I remember when Lena and I were smaller. Only mother and Margret were always there for us. How often did we wake up, frightened by nightmares, screaming for you, but you were never there. You always valued the city more than your family. And now that our mother needs you by her side, you want to stay here and wait until the enemy takes you prisoner or kills you.” Bitter tears ran down her cheeks and made the light of the candles shimmer in her brown eyes . She sank on one of the chairs.

Duisberg was hurt seeing her being so depressed. He sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Sweet child, you can't say so and you mustn't think like that. Believe me, I've never been indifferent to you, neither mother nor you or your sisters. Not a minute passed in which I didn't think of you.” Caterina wrapped her arms around his neck and cried bitterly.

“Please, little Cat. You know I can't see you cry.” He stroked her hair tenderly. “And please believe me that I've always acted for your best. Today, barely two days before Christmas Eve, it's even more important because... you have to understand… if I fail tonight, our city may be razed to the ground... or you, your sisters and mother killed or violated... I would rather let you call me a bad father than I would ever let that happen. "

Caterina calmed down. She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at her father. “Please forgive me, father. I didn't mean to offend you.” She said ashamed and lowered her eyes. He put his hand on her chin lovingly and lifted her head to look into her eyes. “My little princess, you haven't. Do you actually know how much you got from your mother? Her face, her big heart... and her temper.” he chuckled, but the happiness that was reflected in his deep blue eyes made her heart beat faster again. She wanted to say something, but there was a knock and the other councilors entered.

"Forgive me, daughter, but you have to leave me now. The matter is very urgent.” “I love you, father,” she said softly and went out. "I love you, too." he whispered, knowing she couldn't hear him anymore.


	15. The 'Devil'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General gets his hands on the young soldiers, but 'The Devil' is kinder than they thought...

Hoelscher felt the boy tense up in his arms. “Sir, this boy has just given us information about the slain farmer. How it happened that he suddenly attacked our men.” “The Sergeant already reported that. However, I'd like the hunter to tell this story himself.” “In this case, please, sit with us. This description will take some time.” Boenninghausen nodded curtly and sat down, while Hoelscher spoke to the boy.

“Stefan, please tell the General your story. It is important that YOU tell it. You were there yourself. Don't be afraid.” The boy hesitantly tried to make eye contact with his commanding officer, but he could not stand the strict gaze of those deep green eyes.

“I understand that you are afraid of me. This fear is well founded, since you left the troop without permission. Your punishment is already set for this. However, you have to report what happened so that I can assess a punishment for the Lieutenant."

It seemed as if these words and the General's mild baritone were taking a burden off his shoulders. He straightened his posture and tried another eye contact. Then he told his story.

When he had finished, he lowered his gaze and bowed his head, waiting for the General to say something. His face seemed to be made of stone, only his dark green eyes were gleaming.

"Basse, get Fuchs, Riedel and Steiger here… NOW!" he commanded with steel in his voice and the Sergeant immediately set off. Hoelscher heard the General's baritone tremble with anger. Fichtner shiverered in fear. Basse came back with two young soldiers. “Where's the third one?” “Not to be found, Sir, at least not in the crew tents.” “Send some of your men to find me this guy. If he dared to desert, he won't live to see the morrow.” Basse saluted and rushed away, Boenninghausen straightened up to his full height of six feet so that everyone had to look up to him.

“And now to you. Names.” “Riedel, Tobias, Sir.” “Steiger, Malachias, Sir.” “Good. Can you imagine why I wanted to see you?” Riedel looked down at the trembling Fichtner. "It's about the punitive expedition, isn't it, General?" "You are both very young, and new in my troop, so I assume you don't know any better, but by this you shall know that there is no such thing as a punitive expedition… NEVER! In addition, there is no violation and murder of children. Do... you... understand... that?!"

The two soldiers looked to the ground, silent and ashamed. “At least you seem to have a glimmer of remorse. Yet you will all be punished so it settles in. If one of you still has something to say, you can do it now. "

"General, what we did is unforgivable," Riedel said meekly. “What you did NOT do is much more unforgivable, namely to hold back this irrepressible Lieutenant in his bloodlust and cruelty. You, Riedel, are the last of you four who should hope for my goodness. After all, it must have been you who mercilessly killed the little boy. Isn't it so?” He looked into the young man's eyes and Riedel could see those gray-green eyes burn with anger. Riedel couldn't withstand these glowing eyes and fell to his knees. “Yes, General. I did... God forgive me, I did...” “Why? ” “The Lieutenant ordered it. He commanded and I obeyed. I confess, I did everything he demanded of me and I am ashamed of it. Until the end of my life, I will have innocent blood on my hands."

“Back to your tents and beg the Almighty for forgiveness. You will stay in the camp tomorrow when the city is stormed… all of you... and you won't receive your share. Your deeds don't deserve a reward. You're dismissed.” The two soldiers obeyed and left the fire as quickly as they could. Boenninghausen sat down again. “The only question is what happened with the fourth, young Fuchs. I hope, he didn't run away,” the Colonel said quietly.

"If he did, he will curse the day he was born," the General answered.

“I don't think he ran away, Sir. He's my friend. We volunteered together. He wouldn't run away without telling me,” Fichtner whispered. "If you have any idea where he is, tell me."

At that moment the Sergeant and a guard came up to the fire. The guard held the soldier they were looking for. “Found him, General. Hiding in the bushes like a shy deer.” Basse reported and the guard pushed Fuchs to the fire, who backed away again until the guard pushed him to the ground and held him there with his foot. "Where are you going, boy? You stay here.” he snarled and pushed Fuchs down.

"Paul, please, stop struggling," said Fichtner, kneeling down next to him. "Look, I'm with you as we promised each other." Fuchs gave up his resistance. “Thank God you're well. I've been searching you for ages The Lieutenant is looking for us since the farmer showed up. I don't think his intentions are the best.” The guard released Fuchs, but stayed close to him.

"So you also belonged to this punitive expedition?" Boenninghausen asked and Fuchs rose to his knees to look up to him. “Yes, Sir. So you already know...” “Indeed. Your friend here already told us the story. You will share his sentence and stay in camp tomorrow. Now go back to your tent. The guard will accompany you if the Lieutenant should come across you.” The two soldiers rose. "We owe you, Sir." Fuchs said and instead of saluting he bowed. Fichtner did the same and they were escorted to their tent by the guard. 

"And now, Basse, Hoelscher, find me this Lieutenant and bring him to my tent!" Both men flinched, the General's steely voice was sending shivers down their spines.


	16. Ransom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Councilors have their meeting and a decision is made.

The councilors sat down on the chairs and were silent within seconds. It had to be something special if the Mayor let them come at such a late hour.

“Gentlemen of the city council, our city is facing the most difficult test. Not only, that a part of our city was burned. I was informed that the plague is also preparing to scourge our city and its inhabitants. "

Excited and fearful murmurs went through the rows of the councilors. Duisberg raised his voice. "But that's not enough for the city!" His deep rolling baritone sounded through the room and the men fell silent. “The enemy has set up camp and will probably attack the gates at dawn. Negotiations seem to be the best option. Do you have any suggestions what I can offer to protect the city?” he asked and sat down.

The councilors murmured and discussed wildly. "No, you can't go, Mayor. In such a situation your presence is required in the city." Duisberg lowered his gaze. He had already thought about this himself.

"Send another man to the war camp." Duisberg recognized this voice. “My good Puetter, I know how much you care for me and the city. If you wish, I will be happy to ask you to come with me, but the situation requires my personal presence, because you see, I know the enemy face to face. "

It became quiet in the council chamber, so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. "Offer him money." A voice cut the silence.

All eyes were on Huelshoff, the oldest among them. “Please, how do you mean that?” Duisberg asked. He was curious about this suggestion, because he valued Huelshoff very much for his age and experience.

“Look, Duisberg... an army needs money for payment. There are many rumors that the Catholic armies are having trouble paying their soldiers. I take any bet that Boenninghausen has the same problems. Offer him a box of silver coins to spare the city."

Duisberg raised his hand and interrupted him. "We shall offer money? To the 'Butcher of Magdeburg'? Forgive me, dear Huelshoff, but do you really think he will agree to such a horse trade?"

“You must appeal to either his heart or his honor. Tell him how much the city was devastated by the fire. Even he must have seen the reflection in the sky, or at least his spies told him about it. Either he responds out of kindness...“ Duisberg couldn't suppress a laugh.

“Your laugh tells me this word will be rather alien to him. So his honor as a soldier will forbid him to destroy this city. It's winter and he'll need a garrison to set up his winter camp. Paint him in the brightest colors how badly the city was affected. No soldier sets up camp in ruins.” Huelshoff concluded.

Thoughtful murmurs broke out among the men and Duisberg also considered this suggestion. It made a lot of sense to him. He didn't know Boenninghausen well enough to foresee his reaction, plus his time as General at war may have changed him a lot, but he was the offspring of an old merchant family. His soul might be black, he might be the 'Butcher of Magdeburg', but Duisberg was certain that someone with merchant's blood wouldn't turn down a deal.

“Anyone of you having a better idea?” Duisberg asked and everyone was silent. “All right, so this suggestion is accepted and it may happen that way. This ends the meeting. Thank you very much for your help. Puetter, Huelshoff, please stay."

The councilors gradually left Duisberg alone with the two men. “How can we help you, Mayor?” Puetter asked.

Duisberg felt that he had reached a turning point. For the very first time in his life he did not feel as strong and courageous as before.

“I would like to ask you to accompany me. It is always better to have witnesses at such a negotiation."

Huelshoff measured him with alert eyes and Duisberg realized that the wise old man looked into him, into his very soul. "I will immediately prepare everything, Mayor," Puetter said and disappeared.

“Now that we are alone, Duisberg, be honest. What is bothering you?” Huelshoff asked in all frankness and put a fatherly hand on Duisberg's shoulder. Duisberg slowly sank onto one of the chairs and put his forehead in his hand.

“Am I a coward, Huelshoff?” he asked without looking at him. "Who said that? If you were, you would not venture into the lion's den yourself. How did you come up with that? ”Huelshoff asked blankly.

“I have to confess, Huelshoff, that for the first time in my life I... I am afraid. I would have preferred to keep Boenninghausen in my mind as a nightmare only. "

Huelshoff sat down next to him. “You must not forget that too much is rushing at you right now. The illness of your good wife, the fire disaster... now the impending dangers of the plague… AND the General. I think some others in your situation would have gone insane already.” “Believe it or not, but I felt like I would.” Duisberg confessed with a soft sob.

“I only know one thing, Duisberg. Your decision to go is the bravest thing you can do. I am very proud that you are the mayor.” Duisberg's eyes met Huelshoff's and he felt stronger.

“Thank you very much for your words. What would I do without a man of your mind and wisdom? I am very happy that you are councilor of the city.” They shook hands and Duisberg even managed to smile. "I will help our young Puetter with the preparations," Huelshoff said. “But tell me one thing, Duisberg. What will happen if… well... he refuses your bargain?” he asked in the doorframe.

"My dear Huelshoff ..." Duisberg began softly and looked into his eyes. "I'd rather not dare to think about that."


	17. A Pathetic Coward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lieutenant is finally found and brought to the General... and the General is absolutely not amused...

"We found him, Sir." Sgt. Basse reported and stepped into Boenninghausen's tent. “As you suspected, he met our guard and the two young soldiers in their tent.” “Hell, let go of me! You will regret that!” they heard him curse outside. "Bring him in." Basse pulled the heavy piece of fabric to the side and Hoelscher and two guards entered, dragging the searched Lieutenant in with combined forces.

“Lieutenant, I demand discipline!” the General commanded, but the Lieutenant still resisted being brought before his commanding officer. "Guards, make him docile."

The guards pushed him to the ground with all their might and one of them struck his lance into his neck. The Lieutenant remained dazed while he was bound by the guards and disarmed by the Captain.

"Lt. Andreas, Sir." Hoelscher reported and handed the General the saber. “Good. Now wake him up.” Basse bent down and slapped the Lieutenant. When he came to his senses he immediately pulled like mad at the bonds behind his back. "What's that? Set me free, damn it!” Hoelscher pulled him to his knees by the collar and also gave him a slap in the face. “Shut up, Andreas. You speak when asked. And the General asks the questions, understand?” “That's enough, Captain.” Hoelscher let go of the Lieutenant and stepped aside. Andreas' gaze was now on his commanding officer, his eyes full of defiance.

“You know who I am, Lieutenant?” “Yes, Sir.” “And you know why you are here?” “No, Sir.” Boenninghausen squatted down to eye level, his blue-gray eyes gleaming. "Liar."

Andreas' breath slightly hitched. As quietly as this word was spoken, the defiance in his eyes disappeared as if Boenninghausen had screamed at him. 

“Is it… is it about that damned peasant lout? Yes, I provoked him. Out of revenge for three hours of unnecessary marching.” "I heard of other things you did in revenge for three hours of marching, Lieutenant." Boenninghausen said with kind voice and rose again. "And the fact that you wanted to get your hands on the two young soldiers from your... punitive expedition... confirms that."

Andreas now avoided his gaze, but Boenninghausen grabbed his throat with his leather-gloved hand and forced him to keep looking into his glowing blue-green eyes. "You know a punishment awaits you?" he growled and the Lieutenant tried to pull back his head. “Yes, stay in camp tomorrow... but not a word of this is true, Sir.” “I'm afraid I can't let you get away that cheaply, Lieutenant.” Boenninghausen said and let go of Andreas' throat.

Hoelscher and Basse looked at each other. They knew this mild and regretful tone in their General's voice. The look in his dark gray-green eyes had changed too. Boenninghausen looked at the Lieutenant with an air of mildness and regret. "I'm afraid we will have to force you to confess, Lieutenant." he said, his baritone all kind velvet.

Andreas looked up to him, his eyes full of fear. “No torture! Please, General... please, don't!” Boenninghausen's gaze was suddenly like ice when he turned to the guards. “Get him out of my sight!” The sudden cold steel in his voice made everyone shiver to the core.

Andreas threw himself down at Boenninghausen's feet. “I beg you, Sir, no torture... I confess… I will tell you everything... everything you want to know." "Then start to tell. Tell me about your punitive expedition to the farmer's house."

And Andreas started to tell, talking like a waterfall, omitting no disgusting detail. Both Hoelscher and Basse felt their stomachs turn. One of the guards had already stormed out. They heard him throwing up in front of the tent. Even Boenninghausen's slightly red face turned pale while he listened to the Lieutenant.

"And I... am called the 'Butcher of Magdeburg' and I... am said to be cruel," he stated, breathing heavily, after the Lieutenant had finished. “I admit, I never thought I'd meet someone like you. You disgust me. Guards, away with him! Give him three times twenty with the nine-tailed! No, give him four times twenty! And twenty for each of the others from his 'expedition', as a constant reminder of their deeds! Everyone shall watch!"

“Mercy, General... please, have mercy, Sir, I beseech you.” the Lieutenant pleaded, but the General pitilessly kicked the heel of his boot into Andreas' face.

“Be silent, you disgusting creature! Even this punishment is evidence of Christianity. Consider it a mercy that I can't think of anything worse right now. Out with this animal before I forget myself!” Basse and the guard grabbed the whimpering Lieutenant by the arms and dragged him out of the tent. Boenninghausen sat down on his chair, trying to calm his breath again.

“And such a beast must serve me. As if my reputation wasn't bad enough since Magdeburg.” He followed his Captain, who had begun pacing up and down, with his eyes. "Something seems to be depressing you, Hoelscher." The young Captain didn't answer, but continued walking back and forth.

“If I wouldn't know you for quite some time now, Hoelscher, then I wouldn't know that you are wrestling with the thought to say very unpleasant things. As much as I am fascinated by the hypnotic evenness of your ups and downs, say what you want to say. "


	18. Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duisberg thinks about his life

It took barely half an hour to make the preparations. The church clock struck half past nine when they discussed everything again. The box with the silver coins was firmly lashed to a mule, the city guard received his final instructions for the night as they passed the Mill Gate.

Duisberg was tormented by serious allegations. Was it right to leave without saying goodbye to wife and children? Was it really right to venture into the lion's den? Didn't the old proverb say, 'If you put yourself in danger, you perish in it'? Maybe it would have been right to come to terms with himself and his conscience beforehand. Maybe now would be a good time to think about everything.

He wondered where in his life he should have taken a different path than the one he had chosen? Would it have been better to join the military? He thought about this question and came to the conclusion that it had been a good decision. He might have reached a high rank by now, but he might just as well lie dead and rotting on one of the many battlefields.

Perhaps, despite his lack of talent, he should have become a merchant. But he knew then as well as now that this life would never have made him happy. Duisberg was also satisfied with this decision.

He was annoyed that he could not remember why he had become councilor, but he must have discovered skill in it, felt called to become Mayor when it was offered to him, and he had never been unsatisfied with this decision. 

Duisberg's thoughts started wandering. He thought of the sufferings the city had experienced… fire, disease, hunger, war and death. Fire… sometimes it seemed to him that Iserlohn had a fifth horseman of the Apocalypse especially for itself, riding through the city once again tonight. He wished even the poorest huts to be built of stone, like old St. Pancras. Perhaps his children might live to see it. His children… maybe it had been wrong to leave without saying goodbye, but he was sure his Anne would understand, as would his daughters, once they were older. When he came back he would explain his motives. They would understand… they surely would...


	19. Prices to be paid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Hoelscher tries to bargain about the punishment with his commanding officer... and shouldn't have done that, because the General shows him who is in command.

Hoelscher stopped, his eyes full of contempt. “Never before have I despised anyone more than you at this moment, General.” Boenninghausen poured himself a mug of brandy and looked his Captain in the eye indifferently. Then he dug the heel of his right boot into the soft forest floor, tilted himself back with his chair and propped himself up against the edge of the table with his left foot. “A feeling I trigger in many people. I'm not here to win a popularity contest, and neither are you. Tell me how I earned your contempt, Captain."

"The punishment is not appropriate, and if you have a heart in your chest, Sir, then you know it." "Captain, it's war for fifteen long years. How long have you been a soldier now? Two years? Three?” Hoelscher nodded silently and stared down at his commanding officer angrily.  
“And how old are you? Twenty?” “Twenty-one, General.” “Twenty-one… I'm thirty-five now, Hoelscher… thirty-five, and almost as long a soldier as you count years. Have you ever heard of the 'Magdeburg wedding'? Of the things happening there?” “You mean the Magdeburg slaughter almost three years ago? Who did not? The city was destroyed and the civilians were slaughtered like cattle. Rumors say, you were a part in the siege and destruction of the city. And the junior officers call you 'Butcher'."

Boenninghausen tilted forward with his chair and stood up to his full height. Hoelscher was thus forced to look up to him. “It's not a rumor, Captain. I thought you should know this before you dare undermining my authority."

“I'm in no way undermining your authority, Sir. I'm just telling you my personal opinion." Hoelscher said and broke eye contact with the General, intimidated. “And my opinion is that this punishment is not appropriate.” “Explain that more precisely. And look at me when you talk to me."

Hoelscher tried to look into his gray-green eyes, but he felt an invisible band wrap around his chest, cutting his breath. He could feel all the General's harshness in that look and felt his hands begin to tremble.

“Certainly the Lieutenant deserves the whip, more than anyone else. And maybe the young soldiers deserve a few strikes, but… the amount of the punishment, Sir. Four times twenty will kill the Lieutenant for sure. Reduce the sentence to two times twenty… and spare the newbies completely."

Boenninghausen's gaze could have softened stone and Hoelscher broke the eye contact. “Spare? For what they did? You just admitted yourself they deserve lashes for their deeds.” “Not young Fichtner, Sir. He came to me himself, shaken, showing sincere repentance. I promised him that nothing would happen to him if he told everything. He trusted me… he hoped for your mercy."

“You are twisting the facts, Hoelscher." the General said with a halfsmile, slowly stepping closer to him, towering above him with his six feet. "Not he was hoping for it, but you. You were the one making promises. Remember my words, Hoelscher? Mercy is a foreign word to me."

Hoelscher lowered his gaze. “General, spare the boy. He's fifteen, almost a child...” “Don't make me lose my respect for you, Hoelscher. You are a capable young man. The most capable I've come across in many years. Nevertheless, if you continue to try undermine my power, I'll have to make clear who is in command! "

The young Captain humbly looked up to his General. “I'm not undermining your power, Sir. Rather, you should make use of it. Even his Majesty the Emperor has the power to punish and to amnesty. Therefore... amnesty the four boys and reduce the Lieutenant's punishment. The young fellows will love you, General."

“I don't expect love, Captain, I demand obedience.” “They would obey better than any dog, Sir.” “And you, Hoelscher? Will you also obey so devotedly if I do what you want?"

The Captain lowered his gaze and said nothing. He hadn't expected such a question. “Too proud? Pride belongs to the master, Hoelscher, not to the subordinate. Look at me!"

Hoelscher obeyed, looking up to his General, and felt his knees slowly soften under the hard look of his blue-gray eyes. "If I were as proud as you say, Sir, I would not ask your forgiveness for these boys." "I may be mistaken, Hoelscher, but yet you have demanded, not asked." 

His chest tightened again and his hands and knees trembled. He had dared to go this far, tried to compete with the devil Boenninghausen, but he felt he was losing. He had awakened hopes in the young Fichtner, hopes he shouldn't have given him because it wasn't his decision. Now one of them had to pay the price for it, Fichtner or himself. "I didn't want to give the impression I was demanding, Sir..." he said softly and looked down.

“I beg you, Sir, to soften your judgment on the five soldiers. Spare the Lieutenant's life with a reduced sentence. And please, spare the four boys.” Slowly he looked up at the tall frame of his General. "What else must I do to convince you I'm not demanding? Kneel?"

Boenninghausen was silent and waited until Hoelscher restored his eye contact. “That's exactly what I expect from you. Kneel!"

The look of those hard blue-green eyes tightened the young Captain's chest. He realized that his mouth had rushed ahead of his mind, again, as with his promise to Fichtner. He had believed his own promise to the young hunter, although he should've known better. Now the General taught him a lesson in breaking this pride.

Hoelscher bowed his head and slowly sank to his knees. “General, please, I implore you, show the world only once in your life that the devil Boenninghausen knows the word mercy.” Once more he struggled with his will and looked Boenninghausen in the eye. "I beg you from the bottom of my soul to be mild, Sir." He felt a hot tear flow down his cheek. The tear was not hidden from Boenninghausen either.

“Tears, Captain?” “The price for my presumptuousness, General. Never again will I dare to anticipate your judgment and make promises to the soldiers. Please forgive me.” he whispered and bowed his head, beaten.

Boenninghausen turned away from his Captain. “You learn quickly, Hoelscher. Go and amnesty the five as you wished. But leave now, before I change my mind and you feel the Butcher of Magdeburg yourself." "You are doing the right thing, Sir." "Get... out!" This cold but angry steel made Hoelscher shiver to the core and hurriedly he left the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Facts: Magdeburg was a bloody massacre in May 1631.  
> Boenninghausen was part of it (but to save his honour: I made up the nickname 'Butcher of Magdeburg' to make him more intimidating. And he wasn't a General back then... didn't do my research properly 🙈).


	20. Offerings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duisberg and his councilors arrive at the camp and meet Captain Hoelscher. He brings them to the General... who refuses to negotiate

Duisberg hadn't noticed how fast the forest had slipped past them when he saw the light of the torches and campfires of Boenninghausen's army. Its reddish glow shone ominously through the dark trees and did not necessarily make Duisberg calmer, on the contrary, he felt real fear for the first time in his life. He took a deep breath, then he gave himself a push and entered the camp.

"Who are you and what is your desire?" asked the dragoon on duty, unfriendly, and pointed his bayonet at them. Duisberg, Huelshoff and Puetter raised their hands so that he could see that they were carrying sabers but not pistols.

"We come from the City as parliamentarians and wish to speak to the General." Duisberg replied calmly and lowered his hands again. "Please inform him that the Mayor and two of his councilors wish to negotiate with him."

The soldier looked up and down at them suspiciously. “I will report you. Follow me. ”he said and went ahead to the General's tent. A young officer met them. "What are these civilians doing in the camp?" he asked, interrupting his hurried pace.

“City negotiators, Captain. They wish to speak with the General.” “I'll report them. You go to the Sergeant and tell him that Lt. Andreas will receive half and the four boys no punishment. Then he already knows. It's permitted by the General.” “As you wish, Captain.” The young guard saluted briskly and set off to carry out the order.

The Captain turned to the three newcomers. "So you are negotiators?" he asked and instinctively turned to the elder of the group. “That's right, Captain. I'm councilor Huelshoff.” Hoelscher held out his hand in greeting. “Hoelscher.” “Nice to meet you, Captain. This is councilor Puetter.” Hoelscher shook his hand. “And this is Mayor Duisberg.” Hoelscher paused and looked Duisberg up and down.

“Are you not well, Captain? You look pale.” Duisberg said with lifted eyebrow and put his hand gently on Hoelscher's shoulder. “Sorry, Mayor. I didn't expect to get to know you this evening." Hoelscher said and shook his hand too. “It seems you've already heard about me. Nothing good, as I suspect.” he said and smiled gently. “Indeed, good man. You couldn't have chosen a worse time to come to the camp, Duisberg. The General is in a very bad mood."

Duisberg smiled that mild, fatherly smile again. “You can be sure that as soon as the General hears that I am here, his mood will be much worse. He hates me to the death.” Now the young Captain began to smile too. “Is there anyone he does not hate? "

Duisberg had to suppress a giggle. He instantly liked the Captain and his humour. “If you were so kind now and report us, Captain.” “Shall I conceal that you are here?” “Do not incur a punishment, because you would receive one for that. It seems he is not squeamish about punishments anyway if he has his own people punished on the eve of a battle. "

“You will understand that when you follow me.” Hoelscher oracled and preceded the three men. Duisberg didn't have to think long about what the young Captain meant by that. When they passed around a tent he saw what had been done to poor Selberg.

Eviscerated and with a burning torch in his mouth, he lay next to one of the large campfires. The flame was reflected in his wide open eyes. "Good Lord ..." Puetter winced. Huelshoff, incapable of words, just put his hand heavily on Duisberg's shoulder. "That people are even capable of something like that..." Duisberg muttered, concerned. “What will his poor wife say when she finds out?” “She won't find out. His entire family was butchered. The reason for the punishment you heard about...” said Hoelscher, who was also not unmoved by the sight. Duisberg turned away. "Bring me to the General, my good Captain."

“Please, wait here." Hoelscher said, pushed the heavy canvas aside and stepped in. “I told you to get the hell out!” they heard Boenninghausen shouting inside. "Excuse me, General, but there are three negotiators from the city outside, wishing to see you." "Send them away.” “General, listen to me first. With them…” “Do as I say!” Duisberg and the councilors looked at each other. “What shall we do, Duisberg?” “Wait.” “But you can hear that he doesn't want to negotiate.” “I know him well enough, Puetter. I'll wait, right here..."

“Sir, please, in front of the tent…” “And if the Mayor himself came in here on his knees, Hoelscher, I won't negotiate! Now get out!” The canvas was pushed away and the Captain came out. “You hear it for yourself, he won't let me have my say, Duisberg. His mood is unduly bad. In the end, it is my fault too. I also attacked his patience very much today."

"Stand aside, Captain." Duisberg said mildly and went to the tent entrance. "What are you doing?" "I'll get in touch with him myself." "Are you out of your mind, Duisberg?" Huelshoff grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "He'll kill you if you go in there." Duisberg looked at him calmly and slipped his hand off. “I've known this fellow for almost twenty years, Huelshoff. He'll be far too surprised to do that.” “How can you believe such a thing?” “Because he thinks I'm a coward. You two stay here and wait for me.” With that he left the councilors and entered the General's tent. The young Captain followed him.

"If you dare to enter my tent again, then you will get to know me, Hoelscher." Boenninghausen didn't even look up when he entered the tent. "But I already know you, Lothar."

Boenninghausen startled and stared at the tent entrance. "Sorry for coming in unannounced, but I got the impression that it was necessary."

“You will atone for that, Hoelscher. I made myself clear, didn't I?” Boenninghausen growled with burning green eyes.

“Sir, he couldn't be stopped.” “Don't blame the Captain. I assumed that you would remember my stubbornness.” “Indeed, you've always been a stubborn goat, Duisberg. Now that you are here, what do you want?” Boenninghausen sat down again.

"Save yourself the patronising tone, General. You know very well what brings me here.” “Indeed I do, I just wanted to hear it from your own lips, how you begged me to spare the city.”

Boenninghausen glared into Duisberg's eyes. “Don't look at me like that, General. Sure, this encounter is under no lucky star since that incident twenty years ago, but don't think I'm a coward. I didn't come here to beg on my knees in front of you just because I'm afraid of the reputation preceding you. Rather, I wanted to have a reasonable conversation with you, as civilized people.” Seriously and without a trace of intimidation, he returned the General's scowl.

“You would do well to show me a little more respect, Duisberg. I'm not the little apprentice I used to be.” Duisberg lifted his eyebrow to that. “Neither am I, General. So let's finally talk to each other like grown men." "Good, then tell me what you want."

“As you will have noticed, a fire raged in the city.” “I know. High losses?” “Entire Linden Street was in flames, General. The fire has also spread to the neighboring streets. At least half of the adjacent streets were consumed by the fire as well. We don't even know where to put all the people. You will understand, General, that under these circumstances my only option was to come to you when it was reported that your army camps here."

Boenninghausen by no means escaped the fact that Duisberg's eyes were looking at the tent's entrance at these words. "From the dead farmer in front of the tent, I suspect." His words did not fail to have an effect. He saw Duisberg's eyes narrowing and his hands clenching into fists. "Who was slaughtered by your people like a cattle, as I suspect..." Duisberg replied, laboriously controlling the anger of his words. "Touché, old friend." “Was it necessary to slaughter him and his family for this, General? To slaughter a respectable, decent peasant family because he warned the city and me about you and your troops?” “You shouldn't irritate me, Duisberg. Even if I am not accountable to you in any way, I assure you that this act was not done with my consent. The guilty person has already been found and will receive his punishment.” At that moment, as if to confirm his words, they heard a loud lash and a shrill cry of pain. Boenninghausen noticed that Duisberg winced at these sounds. “But now let's talk business, Duisberg. So, according to your description, about a quarter of the city seems to be in smoking ruins. It's unfortunate, I admit, but it's not enough for me to pass your city. You must understand, I have brought quite a large army. The year will soon be over and my men are longing for something other than their tents to end the year." The lashes and cries outside tore at Duisberg's nerves, but he desperately tried not to show it, his blue, alert eyes not leaving the General unobserved as he spoke. Boenninghausen seemed not the least affected by the painful screams outside. “You are less concerned with the well-being of the men than with the fact that you will have allowed them to plunder the city once it is conquered. This point is taken into account. Outside, with two councilors who accompanied me, you will find a mule. It carries a box with a two thousand silver coins on its back. They shall be yours if you spare our city."


	21. Demands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duisberg made his offer... but the General is not satisfied.

Boenninghausen leaned back on his chair and looked at Duisberg for a while without saying anything, stroking his goatee absent-mindedly. He wondered what was going on in Duisberg's stubborn head.

The sum was not exactly small, they both knew that, but Boenninghausen wasn't yet satisfied. Duisberg stood in his tent, being the negotiator. He was braver than Boenninghausen had wanted to admit. This time he hadn't snuck up from behind like he had back then in the woods.

How much Boenninghausen had wished that the day would come to meet him again. And how often had he imagined what he would do to him then...

Not enough that Duisberg had beaten him up. He had long since forgiven him for that, on the very same day. He deserved the beating because one didn't attack a defenseless girl.

It was worse that Duisberg had driven a wedge between him and his father… with a pride and a matter of course that still made him blush with anger today.

He should pay for this pride, here and today, Boenninghausen swore to himself. Before dawn he would break Duisberg's pride. He wanted to see him on his knees, literally. The day of reckoning had come. The breath of a satisfied smile crossed his face.

This slight and sudden derailment in the expressionless face didn't escape Duisberg. Thoughts began to race in his head too. He wondered why Boenninghausen was staring at him so closely, with a look like a cat fixing its prey. 'What do you want from me, Lothar? Why are you smiling so sly?' he asked himself. 'What is it that makes you silent about our offer?'

His blue eyes glid over to the young Captain by the entrance. But even there he did not find an answer to his questions, because Hoelscher's expression was excited, but uninvolved. Only his hand on the handle of the saber indicated that he would intervene immediately if Duisberg made an attempt to attack the General. Duisberg looked at Boenninghausen again.

"Well, General, what do you think?" "I deeply regret it, my dear Duisberg, but I have to decline your undoubtedly generous offer."

As warm as Boenninghausen's words reached Duisberg's ears, so hard they cut into his heart. He took a deep and shocked breath. "Please tell me your reasons for the refusal, General." Duisberg fought the lump in his throat.

“The reason, Duisberg, is that the sum is too small for the size of my army. Shouldn't you be able to offer more, then we have nothing more to discuss."

Duisberg tried to calm his breath over this kind voice, but he felt his chest tighten as if a nooze would press it together.

"Allow me to speak to my councilors first, General..." "Of course, of course… please, you cannot make such a decision alone. I understand that, Duisberg. Just go and consult them. But don't take too much time, because in a few hours the attack signal will sound. You may leave."

Duisberg took another deep breath when Boenninghausen spoke to him in this overly mild but patronising tone. He felt his heart start pounding in his chest. "Before I leave, General, please tell me the amount of your demand, so that I don't lose too much time in further negotiations."

Boenninghausen gave him an arrogant halfsmile. “Still the clever one, aren't you, Duisberg? With a sum of less than six thousand silver thalers you don't need to enter my tent again.” “But... General...” “You have your answer, Duisberg. Now go, otherwise you will lose too much time with further negotiations. And tell your councilors: A refusal means that I will level your city to the ground.” That he even dared to speak this threat in such a velvety and charming tone was too much for Duisberg. He gritted his teeth angrily and stormed out of the tent.

"Don't think I'm criticizing you, Sir, but do you think he will go into it?" Hoelscher asked, looking after Duisberg. “You don't know him, Captain. He'll be back. You can say a lot about him, but he knows when he has lost." Boenninghausen answered and poured a mug of Brandy. 'And you will beg me to pay the ransom, old friend ...' he added in his mind and downed his drink.


	22. Options

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duisberg and his councilors discuss the General's outrageous demand.

“You can't be serious, Duisberg!” “Sht! Not that loud, Puetter. The whole camp mustn't hear it right away.” old Huelshoff whispered. “But I agree with Puetter. That is an outrageously high sum he is demanding. Is it clear to him that this is more than two thirds of our city treasury?” “You can assume that, Huelshoff. He was born in this area and he knows that Iserlohn has always been a quite wealthy trading city.” Duisberg replied calmly with low voice, but despite his apparent calm, a cold shiver ran down his spine.

“This demand is unacceptable, I tell you.” Puetter snapped. "You do not have my approval as treasurer."

“That's easy for you to say, Puetter. You only speak for yourself. Duisberg and I have to think a little further. I'm against it too, but I can't make up my mind without thinking about my wife, my children and my grandchildren. Shall I allow them to end like the farmer at your feet? "

Puetter looked down to the ground, embarrassed. “And what shall become of the other families in town?” Huelshoff added. “Your words give them the choice of being evicted, violated or killed. Do you prefer this? Can you really want this?!"

“Please, Huelshoff, don't chide him so severely. I can understand his refusal. I don't like this choice either." Duisberg intervened and put his hand on Huelshoff's shoulder to calm him. "Nevertheless, I know that we have no other choice.”

“And that's coming from you? You of all people, Duisberg? What kind of merchant were you actually?” “An unsuccessful apprentice if you ask me so impudently, Puetter. But don't you think this is the wrong time to insult me personally? We should rather weigh our options.” “You are right, Duisberg. Please forgive me. This whole situation is very draining on me."

“As with all of us. Should we tell him that he wants to conquer a city in which he will find plague sufferers?” Duisberg looked at Huelshoff and thought about his words.

"No, I don't think so. Who knows what he'll do to the three of us if we tell him. I don't want to be killed just because he believes that I'm bringing the plague to his camp."

"Do you see any way we can talk him out of this horrific sum?" Puetter asked and chew his lip. "I confess, if we could talk him out of it, I would prefer it too, Duisberg." Huelshoff added.

He looked at his two councilors and a desperate smile crept into the corner of his mouth. “I'll try, but I firmly believe it's pointless. He is full of hatred for this city... and for me in particular."

“Please try, Duisberg. Bargain... flatter… beg... I don't care what you have to do, but every thaler you can wrest from him will be desperately needed in the city this winter. Should it go wrong, I will immediately go and plunder the city treasury. But please... try again to talk him out of it."

“Is that your opinion, too, Huelshoff?” “I trust your judgment when you say it is pointless, Duisberg. Still, I don't think it's wrong to at least try. If he refuses, I will immediately set off with Puetter to meet his demand."

Duisberg looked them in the eye, saw their despair, but also their hope in his abilities. He took a deep breath and shook hands with them. "I'll do what I can." "God protect you, Duisberg." Huelshoff said and Puetter shook his hand firmly and encouragingly. Then they watched Duisberg as he reentered the General's tent.


	23. Broken Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boenninghausen is relentless in his demand. And soon Duisberg will know the reason for it...

“You're back sooner than I expected, Duisberg. Were you able to convince your councilors so quickly?” Duisberg did not miss the cynical tone in Boenninghausen's voice. He was sure of his cause. Duisberg stepped before him and straightened his posture. 'Time to bargain politely, then.' he thought.

“General Boenninghausen, as a representative of the Iserlohn City Council, it is my responsibility to ask you to refrain from your demand. It is not possible for us to meet your demand without endangering people's lives. I offer you the sum of three thousand silver thalers and kindly ask you to accept it."

Boenninghausen leaned back calmly and looked at Duisberg without saying a word. Time stretched out endlessly as the two men appraised each other in silence. Then Boenninghausen slowly stroke his moustache with his slender fingers and began to smile narrowly.

“I may be wrong, my dear Duisberg, but didn't I tell you that the sum is non-negotiable?” he asked with most velvety voice. “You said so, General, but it is not my decision alone. I have to think of the city dwellers.” “You do well, Duisberg. And I don't want to hinder you. Go back to your city dwellers then and tell them this: If they do not hand over the city voluntarily, Iserlohn will be removed from the maps. You may leave." 

Duisberg was shocked in which generous tone Boenninghausen spoke out this threat. As if he would make him an unresistable offer… a cold fist clenched around his heart. This was not the man he had met so many years ago. Not anymore. Bargaining didn't work with him. 'Alright, Henrich… so be it. Supplication then.' he thought and took a deep breath.

“Please, General, don't force me to extremes. I appeal to your heart.” “Yes, that's exactly what I'm forcing you to do, Duisberg. You will do what I demand or you can kiss your city goodbye.” Duisberg heard hard steel creep into this soft baritone. “Then leave it at four thousand, I beg of you. That is the utmost we can give." Duisberg returned, putting more soft supplication into his rolling voice. To no avail, Boenninghausen rose from his chair, his cold gray-blue eyes threatening as his voice.

“You beg me, Duisberg? You beg me and yet you try to haggle with me over something that is non-negotiable? Then I advise you to enjoy the time until dawn. Then my men will attack, Duisberg. And they will plunder what they can. Perhaps this time I will also generously fail to see moral misconduct against the civilian population. Now go, Duisberg. I wish you a pleasant night."

Duisberg was standing with the back to the wall, both men were aware of that. While Boenninghausen silently watched him wrestle with himself, Duisberg looked at the young Captain.

Hoelscher seemed to have a remark on his lips that he was desperately trying to control. Then again he seemed to beg Duisberg with his eyes to accept the General's demand. The thoughts started rushing through his head.

He knew perfectly well what Boenninghausen meant with moral misconduct… he would allow to murder or violate civilians. Duisberg's thoughts instantly snapped to his daughters…. his sweet angels… his heartblood… His heart started to race in his chest and he felt his throat tighten. No, he would never allow that. Rather he'd die. But why was Boenninghausen so damn hard towards him? What had made him change so badly?

"Why are you so pityless?" Duisberg asked softly without looking at him. “Are you trying to offend me, Duisberg?” “There was once a young man I knew, General. He was not unlike you in tenacity, but he was a warm fellow. I wonder what happened to him." he asked with sad blue eyes.

“Captain, go and see if the councilors can get something to drink from the sutler. I think I'll be fine with the Mayor on my own. You're dismissed.” Hoelscher wanted to reply, but then reluctantly left the tent.

“What happened to the young man, Duisberg? Well, he died about twenty years ago... beaten to death mercilessly by his own father.” Duisberg remained silent and swallowed.

“And do you know who was to blame for this?” Boenninghausen growled with narrowed eyes, his face an image of anger. Duisberg looked down guiltily. “So you see why I am pityless with you. Nothing you say or do will change the fact that I hate you deeply since that day." Duisberg looked up to Boenninghausen again, searching the look of these cold and angry gray-blue eyes. He felt a tear roll down his cheek when he realised Boenninghausen's words were true. The boy Duisberg had known, was dead. He felt a sting of guilt in his heart and lowered his eyes.

"Do you accept the condition now, Duisberg?" The Mayor nodded silently without looking at him again. Then he turned to leave the tent.

“Where do you want to go, Duisberg?” “Tell my councilors that we will meet your demand… Sir.” Duisberg answered, beaten. “The Captain will do so later. Let them enjoy one or two drinks first. And he will also inform them that you will stay here as my guest until the ransom has been paid." "As your hostage, you mean." Boenninghausen smiled amused. "This expression is a bit more profane, but you can call it that, if you like. Hand me your weapon."

Duisberg looked deep into Boenninghausen's eyes while he opened his sword belt and slowly and carefully took the sabre in both hands. "I hand you my life… at your mercy or disgrace, General." he said and put his sabre into Boenninghausen's hand. Then he lowered his gaze and slowly sank to his knees. 

“And I ask you from the bottom of my heart that you may forgive me for what I did so many years ago. Should it need my life to wrest the protection of the city from you, then take it. Take my life so that no innocent has to be wiped out."

“What generosity, Duisberg, what chivalry to offer your life in exchange for the city.” Duisberg could hear the cynicism in Boenninghausen's voice.

“But I have to admit, I enjoy the sight.” “I heard what you said to the young Captain when I asked for entry. I know that you wished for nothing more than to see me on my knees, begging. And you are right to wish for it. I had no idea what my behaviour and my words would entail." He looked up to the General, staying on his knees. 

"So I beg you from the bottom of my heart to forgive me. I didn't want to destroy your life, Lothar. Please, you have to believe me."

Boenninghausen looked deeply into those shining blue eyes he had never forgotten. He remembered their proud gleaming only too well, but now they didn't gleam with pride anymore. These eyes were modest now, humble even, but he saw more in them. He had seen too many eyes looking at him like this. This was fear, pure and naked fear.

“I believe even more that you have other reasons than your conscience, Henrich. Back then I got to know you as proud people. I find it hard to believe that you, who had a very proud and stubborn father, suddenly give in just because I give you the prospect of the city being destroyed. You were too eager to give in when I threatened the population would be harmed. Be honest, the family man gave in, not the Mayor, right?" he asked with kind voice.

Duisberg slumped on his knees and bowed his head in defeat. "I knew it. You're worried about your own family, aren't you? You died of worry when I made my threat." Duisberg looked up to him again with begging eyes. 

"Don't worry, Henrich. I give you my word of honor that they won't be harmed, neither your wife nor your children. Now get up and take a chair."


	24. Treason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guards on the city wall are nervous. But one of them has a different reason for his nervousness...

The guards paced up and down the walls, restlessly, their eyes fixed on the near edge of the forest, their rifles loaded over their shoulders. Midnight was coming closer and the night was impenetrable.

For the first time in a long time the moon had turned red as blood and this light shone ominously over the forest. Many of the guards were superstitious about these matters and firmly believed that such a night would be bad luck.

“What do you think, Hans? Will our Mayor succeed?” one of the guards asked his friend. “I really can't say, Frank. I can tell you one thing. This night doesn't bode well.” Hans answered. “But I trust in his skills. Until now Duisberg has always been able to turn everything for the better."

Lost in thought, Frank turned his gaze back to the edge of the forest. "That's true," he said.  
Slowly his eyes wandered up to the sky. A star whizzed past the constellation of Orion. “Just look, Hans! A shooting star!” he shouted and saw Hans check the trajectory of the star.

"What did you wish for?" he asked him. "That the Mayor may return soon and bring good news." They were both silent for a long time. Hans' thoughts revolved around one question. What would happen if the attack took place before the fire permit? Would he obey the Mayor's orders or would he still open fire and defend his city?

"The torches almost burned down," said Frank, tearing Hans out of his thoughts. “Just let them. When they have gone out, they no longer cast any confusing shadows on the forest.” Hans answered. He had been on watch at night for ten years and was more experienced than his friend Frank, who up until two months ago had been on duty as gatekeeper during the day.

Sometimes Hans thought that his young friend was afraid of the night, because he always kept an eye out for big and brightly burning torches. Now that he had forbidden him to do so, he thought he saw a touch of fear glimmer in Frank's eyes.

Hans continued on his way on the city wall, his eyes alert and focused on the edge of the forest. Since he started his job, and that was shortly before the fire, he had only seen five people in the fading light of day. The farmer with his terrible news, the Medicus and the Mayor with his two councilors. The night would be quiet.

But still, the lunar eclipse with its eerie red light worried him. This was a rare occurrence, but his bad feeling had never let him down. 

He didn't know how long he had been staring at the edge of the forest when he suddenly heard footsteps behind him and startled around. Frank stood in front of him. "Are you nervous, Hans?" he asked. Hans took a deep breath and relaxed again. "I'm sorry about it. It's just that I have a vague feeling that something is going to happen tonight. You know, my feeling has never deceived me."

Frank felt his heart beat faster. He had been in Iserlohn for a year, nine months of it with the city watch. If it hadn't been his assignment, he might even have found this time nice. But the General would never forgive him if he didn't do his job… give a reason to attack the city.

"You know, Hans, your feelings won't deceive you today either..." he said in a husky voice. Hans looked at him in surprise and noticed a bright flash of light, but he couldn't react quickly enough. Frank's hand jerked out and stuck the dagger in his throat to prevent him from screaming.

“Forgive me.” was the last thing Hans heard in his life.


	25. Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time stretches endlessly while both men are waiting... and Duisberg's nerves are at the brink of snapping.

The two men who had once been bound by the delicate bond of blooming friendship watched each other in silence. An immeasurable number of thoughts shot through Duisberg's head.

Seeing Boenninghausen again after all these years hurt him deeply. He had been a beautiful young man, but all that was left were those intensely colour-shifting eyes that still seemed to glow with a fire. Duisberg was shocked how much fifteen years of war could change a person.

The formerly full, now shoulder-long ginger hair was interspersed with gray and white strands and it started thinning. The face was pale now, a bit hollow cheeked, which emphasized his high cheekbones and his egdy jaw. He was still handsome, but it made him look hard, like being carved from granite… hard and relentless, just as life and war had made him. But Duisberg didn't miss that his skin was slightly bloated and red-stained, an unmistakeable sign that he seemed to drink a lot, probably excessively.

In addition, the dark, almost black, circles under his eyes suggested that he hadn't slept properly for many days. Presumably another reason for his irritable mood.

But Boenninghausen also took a closer look at Duisberg. It seemed to him that he had aged much faster in the past years than he should have been. He had been a sweet baby boy, blessed with a freckled and apple-cheeked angelic face with shining blue eyes that had always sparkled with a little mischief. The mischievous look in these sparkling blue eyes was gone now, his dark wavy hair and his ginger beard… ginger… Boenninghausen was deeply surprised by this… were turning gray already and many lines were showing on his face. 

He had looked like 10 when they had met, now he looked older than Boenninghausen himself although he knew Duisberg was his age, a year or two younger, maybe. Boenninghausen was aware this resulted from constant tension and many worries.

He knew only too well that the city had had to endure some difficult times in the past years, his spies had given him sufficient information. Duisberg still had seemed to be the confident guy he used to know, but he had realized by now that this man was no longer the self-confident guy he had thought he was.

“How desperately you must hate me, Lothar. I didn't want your father to beat you into the army, even if I wished you had the plague on your neck at the time,” Duisberg said softly, breaking this nerve wrecking silence.

“A little late to ask for my forgiveness. And I'm not a priest, so don't confess to me.” Boenninghausen growled in return and poured himself a brandy, offering to Duisberg, who shook his head. “I'm a Protestant. Nobody can give me absolution except you, Lothar. Please believe me at least that I am sincerely sorry."

“Not sorry enough, Henrich! Not even close! You can't have an idea how much it consumed me to have been rejected by my own father. And I couldn't make my peace with him before he died. I truly loved him... and you are to blame for our division. I'll never forgive you that, Henrich. Never in my life!"

He threw his brandy down in one go. Nevertheless, he never let Duisberg out of his sight. He had observed with satisfaction that every word had struck him like a knife. “But don't worry. I only hate you, not your family."

Duisberg disliked the fact that Boenninghausen mentioned his family again. He wondered if Boenninghausen really thought he was stupid enough not to hear the threat in those words. And it was a threat for sure. But why? 

They had come to terms with their negotiation, he had accepted the General's demand. He instinctively felt Boenninghausen was hatching something. But what? Or was he just overthinking? Imagining things? The day had been long and exhausting. Duisberg was tired and he felt his nerves were at the brink of snapping for good.

“Could you stop your hidden threats.” he sighed and rolled his head to release some tension. It didn't help. “Don't irritate me, Henrich.” Boenninghausen growled and glared at him. “I don't irritate you, Lothar. You try to offend my intelligence. Be honest. You never intended to let me out of this tent alive, did you? Let alone spare my city, in which you only experienced suffering. I can grab the hatred in your words with bare hands."

Boenninghausen stood up suddenly and tore Duisberg's saber from its sheath, pointing towards him threateningly. "You would do well to keep your mouth shut, Henrich, before I forget myself." he scowled, looking like a wolf now with his gritted bare teeth and burning eyes. Duisberg's nerves finally snapped and he jumped up from his chair, finally exploding.

"Then do it! Come here and satisfy your hatred! I'm so tired of this! Just kill me here and now, you'd even do me a favour with it.” Duisberg threw himself on his knees before him, defiantly, and offered his neck to him. Boenninghausen, irritated, lowered the saber.

“What kind of trick is this, Henrich? How could that be a favor? Anyone else in your current situation would beg for his life, not his death.” He lifted Duisberg's chin with the point of the saber to look into his eyes. He saw shiny tears roll down Duisberg's cheeks.

“Isn't it enough for you that I put my life in your hands? Do you want to torment me even more than you already did? I neither want to see my wife die miserably, nor do I want to see what your soldiers do to my children. You were right, Lothar. I'm proud, but a coward... too cowardly to witness this… before you kill me anyway." More tears poured over his cheeks when he closed his eyes, waiting for the blade to end his life.

He felt the sharp tip of the sabre slowly slide down his throat, felt how it ripped open his skin almost tenderly. A warm drop of blood ran down his throat. Boenninghausen gently tipped his shoulder with the blade and he opened his blue eyes again to look up to him, seeing him lower the saber and jerk his head to make Duisberg stand up again.

"You really have some guts, Henrich, I must admit that. For a moment I really wanted to do it." he said with a slight smile on his face while Duisberg rose again. "But you misjudge me, Henrich... really." That moment they heard a sound that reminded of a distant shot.

“What was that?” Duisberg asked in horror, turning pale. “It sounded like a shot. Did it come from your city, Henrich?” he asked dangerously, his blue-green eyes narrowing. Duisberg looked at the tent entrance hurriedly, then back to Boenninghausen. His blue eyes glowed with worry. "That can't be... it can't! I gave orders not to shoot, under no circumstances. It must have been an accident, then. But one of your men's muskets could've been it as well."

“Captain!” Boenninghausen yelled and Hoelscher entered the tent. He seemed to have been around the whole time. “Was that a musket of our men? I ordered silence in the camp.” “I don't know, General. It would be possible, with all the commotion today.” “Find out. Now!” “Yes, Sir.” Hoelscher hurried away.

Duisberg's nervousness and fear grew to infinity, Boenninghausen saw it in his gleaming blue eyes and his nervous small lip licks.

“My people know what happens if one of them shoots while I'm away. It can't have been one of them. It can't… on my life, it can't, I swear...” he pleaded, panting nervously, and looked into Boenninghausen's eyes. 

Duisberg's heart started to pound when he saw his tensed face, his hard gray-green eyes and his narrowed lips. "I swear, Lothar… you must believe me." “I want to believe it… I want to believe that for you. You know what else is going to happen.” Of course he knew. All negotiations were worthless. This was like an invitation for Boenninghausen to attack the city.

"Please, Lothar… I assure you…" At that moment they heard a second shot.

"I find it hard to believe that these shots should come from my camp, you know." A cold shiver ran down Duisberg's spine. Boenninghausen's words were too gentle, his voice was too mild, too velvety, too kind. He started to tremble with fear and panic and his breath sped up. Time seemed to stretch infinitely.

Duisberg closed his eyes and prayed for the Captain to return… prayed, he would report it had been shots from the camp.

Hoelscher stormed into the tent. “General, our scouts were shot at. They just came into the camp completely out of breath and reported that shots from the city wall hit a tree just behind them."

"No! No, please, this isn't true! It can't… it simply CAN'T!” Duisberg shouted desperately and turned to Boenninghausen, who could see panic and despair in these glowing blue eyes. "This can't be true! I swear! Lothar, I gave explicit orders... " "Yes, Henrich... you gave orders… and my men were shot at. So you broke the peace..." Boenninghausen said, clenching his hand around the handle of the sabre. 

"No!" Duisberg lunged forward, grabbing for the weapon, and Boenninghausen pierced his chest with the sabre. Hoelscher wasn't able to prevent it, although he immediately tried to jump between them. Duisberg clawed his fingers into Boenninghausen's shoulders, trying to stay on his feet. He felt pain in his chest, felt an indistinct cold spread in his heart. "Lothar…" he whispered and felt the sharp pain when Boenninghausen pulled back the blade and stepped back to lean against the table, his always hard eyes widened in shock.

Hoelscher caught him when his body sagged and slowly let him sink to the ground. Blood poured from the wound with his heartbeat. Duisberg looked up to Boenninghausen weakly.

"Spare my children... Lothar… I beseech you, spare them…" Hoelscher heard him beg with dying breath. Then Duisberg's body relaxed and Hoelscher closed his blue eyes carefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is historical fact that Mayor Duisberg died at Boenninghausen's camp during negotiations, but the legends about it differ severely.  
> One says it was the General himself, two say it was one of his officers and another one says it was one of the guards.  
> For dramatic purposes I chose the first option and hope, you also like it best like I did.


	26. A Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boenninghausen becomes aware of what just happened... and is unable to process how it could happen. His thoughts start to drift...

“I know, you don't care about my opinion, General, but I consider your act despisable. He was unarmed… defenseless.” Boenninghausen snapped to attention. What did he just say? Despisable? What? Why? He took a deep breath and looked down at Hoelscher, who knelt on the ground… next to Henrich? Crossing himself? What…?

Hoelscher looked up to him with comtempt. "He would surely have been useful, Sir. Was this necessary?" Hoelscher dared to accuse him like he had done this on purpose? What the hell had happened? He remembered Henrich had panicked... had lunged forward and grabbed for the saber and then… the saber had been in his chest… he still couldn't explain it. He needed to think about it… alone. "I'm talking to you, Sir." 

Boenninghausen took a deep breath again and felt anger rise inside him.

“I owe you no accountability. Now get him out of my sight and then fetch me his councilors." he growled with burning eyes.

Hoelscher called the guard from the tent entrance. Together they grabbed Duisberg's body by the wrists and ankles and carried him out.

Boenninghausen sat down on his table and looked at Duisberg's saber, which he was still holding in his clenched hand. "So you're dead now…" he said lowly to the blooddrenched blade, almost mesmerized by it. "You were no ghost… you could bleed like any other mortal… and die..."

Slowly he ran his finger over the blade and licked it, as if to make sure the blood was real. “It's true… it's really true..." He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Then he stared at the bloody blade again and it felt like his mind clinked out…

~~~~~

By God, how often had his thoughts revolved around what had happened in the forest. Had it really been necessary to lose temper over a little joke with a girl?

Duisberg had overreacted, he was absolutely certain. He had never been the type of person to molest a helpless, innocent girl. All he had wanted to do was freak her out a little.

After all, she hadn't only annoyed him but also offended his pride as a man seriously, had wanted to deny him that he was a grown man with almost 16. Certainly it would have been enough to simply slap her in the face because of his hurt pride, but one didn't slap a girl. So he had chased her through the forest like a deer.

If she had come home with a torn dress, her father would certainly not have been petty with slaps and she would have understood her lesson in pride and honor...

But everything got out of hand when young Henrich interfered, being the shining savior. 

That was completely fine for him... a headache as if his skull was about to burst, that was fine as well. Lothar had forgiven this, because Henrich was unaware about what had happened before. He had even regretted his threats shortly after he had spoken them. His hurt pride and his pain had made him lose his temper, but he hadn't meant it that way… actually.

Not until Henrich had made the mistake of telling the story, with his big innocent blue eyes and his angelic face... telling it in a way that his own father didn't even want to hear an explanation from him anymore.

Lothar's father had spanked him so hard that night he was unable to sit on his horse the next morning without painful whimpers... but even this he would have forgiven Henrich. His father had only done what probably any father would have done as well… maybe even he would do this to his son… if he would ever have one...

But then his father sent him to the army, forced him by beating him up, calling him a disgrace... every day, 'til Lothar finally left with tears in his eyes, not knowing if he would ever see his home again.

His father was dead for a some years now and Boenninghausen no longer harbored any grudges against him. He was beyond that, but it still hurt... so much...

And all this would never have happened if Duisberg had kept his goddamn mouth shut! He would never have thought of joining the military on his own. Then he would have been spared the sight of these slaughters, not to mention the obligation to commit them himself.

He knew he was called a cold-hearted butcher, but it was the wine and the brandy that had made him what he was. He had started drinking as a young soldier... to erase the terrible memories of murder and fire that threatened to drive him insane… and to make these blue eyes vanish that were haunting him again and again.

The alcohol had made him dull... brutal, but it no longer offered him any protection during the night. Every night he saw them in his dreams, the dead, the tormented, heard their screams… and time and again he saw these accusing blue eyes.

Maybe the dead would be silent now… finally be silent and stop tormenting him…

~~~~~

The General returned to the present and let the bloody saber drop onto the table. He saw blue eyes looking at him… Duisberg's blue eyes… these damn blue eyes that had haunted him since he joined the military...

He closed his eyes and hoped, they would vanish, but they glowed even brighter. "Leave me… leave me alone…" Boenninghausen whispered to himself, poured a Brandy and downed it in one go… and another one… and one more… He felt a cozy dizzyness in the head and finally these glowing eyes faded away.

Duisberg was dead… he could forget about him now… could forget what pain he had caused him. He had heard his last words, now he remembered them again, repeated them over and over in his mind. 

'Spare my children, Lothar… I beseech you, spare them…'

He closed his eyes, recalling the image of Duisberg's final plea, savouring the sound of his supplicant words… he would never forget this... but it didn't satisfy him. 

He downed another Brandy.

A wolfish smile slowly crept on his face while a bad thought occurred to him. The word of honor he had given flashed up again. His own line would die out with him. It was only right that he erased Duisberg's line as well. A diabolical plan was taking shape in his mind.

Tomorrow, when the city was taken, he would order his soldiers to bring Duisberg's wife and children here. Duisberg certainly lived in his father's house at the market square. He still knew where this house was. And his children might still live under the father's roof. Probably they wouldn't be much older than 15 or 16 considering Henrich's age, being one or two years younger than himself. 

The last boundary would be crossed. No one in the family would escape his revenge. Everyone should experience what the 'Butcher of Magdeburg' was able to do. They would spend the winter here and then… then he would have Iserlohn razed to the ground.

That eyesore of his past would be wiped from the maps and from his memory for good, no matter the cost... and then these damn blue eyes could never haunt him again!


	27. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General negotiates anew with the two councilors. And he's more than hard...

"Dear councilors, please take a seat. You surely already know what happened." Boenninghausen greeted them. Duisberg's companions eyed him critically, but they followed his request and sat down.

"So the rumors are true? Mayor Duisberg is dead?" asked Huelshoff and Boenninghausen nodded. "Unfortunately. A tragical accident when I tried to arrest him. But I did not let you come to justify myself." said Boenninghausen and sat down on the edge of his table with his arms crossed. Puetter and Huelshoff were forced to look up to him.

"You will surrender the city... unconditionally." Boenninghausen said with a slightly lifted eyebrow and a soft smile on his lips. His hard blue-green eyes belied the mildness of his voice. This was not a request, not even a well-meaning suggestion ... it was a distinct command. 

"You would like that, you murderer!" Puetter roared, but Huelshoff immediately put his hand on his shoulder. "Shut up. You seem to be forgetting who you're talking to. This is the goddamn General you're becoming rude with." he hissed in his ear. "He's killing us anyway!" Puetter growled in return.

Boenninghausen's mouth narrowed threateningly. "If I WANTED to kill you, councilor... you WOULD be dead already." he replied with dangerous tone. "Oh, how very comforting to know." Puetter snarled cynically and received a push from Huelshoff. "Shut up, damn! Please forgive my colleague, General Boenninghausen. He is very excited. Understandably so. The news of Mayor Duisberg's death surprised us very much." Huelshoff tried to smooth things over, not taking his eyes off the General.

Boenninghausen slowly ran his index finger over his narrow goatee with an even more narrow smile. "Your excitement is understandable, so I will ignore this outrageous tone. However, that does not change my demand."

Puetter wanted to flare up again, but Huelshoff pulled him hard by the collar. "You will shut your damned mouth now! The best thing is to get back to the sutler and let me speak to the General." he growled. "He'll kill you just like the kind-hearted fool Duisberg, narrow-minded old man!"

Huelshoff slapped him in the face. "Get out! You are no longer in control of yourself. Get out of here and let me speak to the General alone." Huelshoff looked up to Boenninghausen. "If you agree, General?"

As immobile as Boenninghausen's face was, his eyes were eloquent. Several times he looked back and forth between Puetter and Huelshoff and Huelshoff saw the color change in his eyes from blue-green to green-gray. Then he stroked his mustache with his long, slender fingers.

"That's probably the best. Captain!" Hoelscher entered the tent. "Bring Councilor Puetter back to the sutler. He needs something to calm his nerves." he said with a patronising smile. Puetter literally jumped up from his chair. "You are a fool, Huelshoff. But do what you want. We are going to die anyway, mark my words." he growled and stormed past the Captain. Hoelscher followed him.

"I can only ask your forgiveness again, General." Huelshoff apologized, but Boenninghausen waved him off. "I don't know YOUR name yet." he said coolly. "Huelshoff."

Boenninghausen pulled up his right leg and put his heel on the edge of the table. "You seem to be a man of sense, Huelshoff... and the wisdom of age seems to speak from you." he said, leaning his elbow on his knee. Huelshoff nodded with polite gratitude. "Too kind of you, General."

"Do not overestimate my kindness, Huelshoff. I do not deviate from my demand." "General, I cannot comply with your request. I have no authority to decide ... neither of us ... at least not alone. Only the council can decide that."

Boenninghausen snorted and smiled contemptuously. "If you assume so little intelligence on my side, Huelshoff, then I have overestimated YOUR wisdom. There has already been a council meeting, otherwise you and Duisberg would not have come here." 

Huelshoff noticed the General's tone, a hunter slowly encircling his prey, but he tried to remain calm.

"I never denied that, General. But the council decided ransom, not surrender." "I am aware of that, Huelshoff. And your mayor and I had already come to an agreement... until someone in your town believed he could open fire on my scouts. Duisberg had sworn the peace would be kept... and paid with his life." Boenninghausen cooly returned and rose from the edge of the table. Huelshoff did not miss the threatening fire in his eyes when he looked up to him. 

"And your city will pay too, Huelshoff. I don't care whether it's peaceful or fighting, because my agreement with your mayor is invalid due to hostile actions on your part. But I'll tell you the same thing I said to Duisberg: meet my demand or I'll wipe the city from the map." he said with his intimidating velvety voice, standing in all his hight in front of the older man with his arms crossed. "Your decision, Huelshoff."

A shudder ran down the old councilor and his breath quickened. "But don't think too long, otherwise I'll make the decision for you."

This mild voice, paired with those hard, now blue-gray eyes, made Huelshoff's blood freeze in his veins. How must Duisberg have felt? What thoughts must have been racing through his head? His own head was now blank with fear… O dear God above, what would Duisberg do now? His heart sped up and he desperately tried to breathe. 

"General… please… I can't decide this alone. I beg you to understand me…" he whispered with trembling breath and closed his eyes. Boenninghausen increased the pressure on him with his cursed velvety voice. "I understand you only too well, Huelshoff, you may believe me. Your Mayor didn't decide light-heartedly either to meet my demand." 

Huelshoff felt like a thousand cords were slowly tying around him, tightening his chest. Now he understood why Duisberg's eyes had been so desperate the last time he had seen him. God, that had been merely an hour ago… 

"If it makes your decision easier, Huelshoff… think about your family. Duisberg did so, either." 

Huelshoff's breath hitched when hearing this and his hand rushed to his chest. It felt like this man had his hand around his heart inside his chest, slowly and unmercifully squeezing it together as if he would smash it between his fingers. His heart sped up in panic and he looked up to Boenninghausen.

"Have mercy, General… please..." he begged with soft voice, knowing it was to no avail when he saw his eyes. "That depends on you, Huelshoff. Surrender, and I might be merciful. Surrender not…" Boenninghausen didn't finish the sentence. The rumors about him were true. He WAS the devil in human form.

Huelshoff felt the fear for his family crawl down his spine. And it wasn't only his family… there were so many families in the city. He couldn't allow them to be slaughtered. And he wouldn't allow it. Duisberg would have done the same, he was sure. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Your answer?" Huelshoff took a deep breath and nodded silently.

"That means?" "We surrender, General. In the morning the gates will be opened and the weapons will be handed over to you. The city is yours ... to mercy and disgrace… please." Huelshoff begged with broken voice and felt tears roll down his face when he looked up into these glowing deep green eyes. "A wise decision, my dear Huelshoff..." Boenninghausen answered with contemptuous smile. The plan had worked. Iserlohn was his. 


	28. Open the Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huelshoff tries to convince the guards to open the gates...

"Open the gate!" Huelshoff ordered, but the guard refused to obey. "For the last time, open the damn gate!" "I can't, councilor. We have our order." "Whose order?" "Master Grevink." "Then get him for me. Immediately!" The guard closed the peephole and disappeared. Huelshoff took a deep breath, his heart beating nervously.

"Calm down, councilor. I'm not the General. I still have patience and understanding." the young Captain at his side reassured him. "And your men will keep calm?" Huelshoff asked nervously. "They won't dare disobeying me. My orders were unmistakable. Disarm the city guards and helpers, secure the gates and the town hall. Nobody shall be injured, fights shall be avoided, the civilian population shall be spared as good as possible."

Huelshoff took a deep breath. The Captain was a different breed than the General, and Huelshoff felt a deep gratitude for it. The peephole in the gate was opened again.

"Grevink, it's good that you're here. Open the gate." Grevink looked first at Hulshoff, then at the Captain and his troop of soldiers. "Is it so bad, Huelshoff? Where is Duisberg?" "Dead. He paid with his life because your men had to shoot... against Duisberg's explicit orders!" Grevink looked sadly to the ground. "I think I know the culprit. He's been missing since last night. If I find him he'll get to know me."

"That won't help us now, Grevink. Give order to open the gates and lay down your weapons. If you don't, we will lose the city. I spoke to the General myself, Grevink. He is capable to fulfill his threat . He will have every single one of us slaughtered mercilessly, starting with Councilor Puetter, who was left as a hostage."

Grevink bowed his head in defeat. "As you wish, Huelshoff. I will give orders to my men. They will deposit the weapons at the town hall and leave them there. When that is done, we will open the gates. I don't want bloodshed. Give me half an hour. " Huelshoff looked at the Captain. Hoelscher nodded. "Well, do it like this." Grevink closed the peephole. "City watch! Everyone to the town hall!" they heard him scream.

Half an hour later the gate was opened.


	29. Another Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Hoelscher shall bring Duisberg's whole family to the camp. But he won't be able to carry out this order.

Huelshoff had given him a good description of the house and Hoelscher had dismissed him. The councilor had been cooperative and had arranged the surrender without a fight. He doubted that the General would have let him go that easily, but he didn't care anymore. His men had occupied all the gates and the town hall, the city guard had surrendered ... Iserlohn belonged to Boenninghausen.

If Hoelscher had been allowed to make his own decisions, he would have rather disappeared from his troops today than tomorrow. But if he did, the General would probably have him flayed... alive ... if he was in a good mood.

One thing had become too clear to Hoelscher last night: The General had lost his mind ... or was about to. Hoelscher hated and detested him. And he understood why the team ranks feared him.

The Lieutenant had just survived his sentence. If he was lucky and didn't get an infection, he might be able to leave the sickbed in two weeks.

Hoelscher pushed these thoughts aside and pounded on the door with his fist. "Open the door! Open the door, in the name of the emperor!" he called and waited. Shortly afterwards the door opened and the Captain's jaw almost dropped. Piercing blue eyes studied him through the crack in the door. "Who are you? And what do you want?" asked a pair of striking red lips. Hoelscher's brown eyes flickered uncontrollably over this face in the semi-darkness. The sky-blue eyes ... the cherry-red lips ... even the freckles on her nose ... this girl was the image of her father and Hoelscher's heart skipped a beat with shock.

"Maid Duisberg?" he asked politely, touching the brim of his hat with a hint of bow. The girl raised her eyebrow and Hölscher would have liked to laugh if it hadn't been so serious. She even had this motion from her father. "Yes. Now reveal who you are."

"Forgive me. Captain Hoelscher, Imperial Army of General Boenninghausen. May I enter?" The girl narrowed the crack in the door. "No, you may not. Unless you've brought father with you."

Hoelscher lowered his eyes. "So he's still with the General, right?" she asked. "Maid Duisberg, please let me in. I don't want to discuss this at the door."

"Margret! Margret, please come! Mother... she can't be calmed!" he heard another girl call. Margret looked nervously from the Captain into the house and back at him. Then she opened the door. "Come in, Captain. And excuse me. Our mother is seriously ill." she said and hurried away from the door. Hoelscher indicated to his companion that he should keep watch in front of the door. "Nobody goes in or out of the house without my permission, understand?" "Yes, Captain." the young soldier answered and stood straight in front of the door.

Hoelscher went in and closed the door, carefully taking off his hat. "Mother, please calm down. Father will be back soon." he heard it from a room to his left. The door was ajar. 

"I'm very calm, child... but father calls me..." "Mama, please..." "No, my girls ... don't cry for me. I am not going alone. Father will be with me and protect me, just as he promised... and together we will watch over you, my sweet children." "No, Mama... please, stay with us..." one of the girls sobbed heartbreakingly, and so did Hoelscher, not untouched, in front of the door. A tear rolled down his cheek. Mother Duisberg was dying ... and she had the sight. She knew that her husband was no longer alive, although no one could have told her yet.

"Farewell my girls... I love you dearly." "Mother ... mother, no!" The voices behind the door fell silent and he could only hear the girls sobbing. Mother Duisberg was now beyond the world of pain. He bowed his head, crossed himself and prayed a soft Ave Maria for the deceased.

"Thank you, Captain. That is extremely caring of you." 

He was startled. Duisberg's likeness of a daughter stood in the open door and wiped the tears from her face. Then she took a deep breath. "Because of your loss, I suffer with you, Maid Duisberg." he said and felt another tear run down his cheek. "My parents are no longer alive either." he added quietly. 

"My condolences, Captain." she said sympathetically. Then she took another deep breath and straightened her posture. "But now tell me what brings you here." Hoelscher was impressed by her strength. He hated himself having to bring the girls to camp now, but he knew the General would not tolerate any excuses. 

His order was clear. Bring the entire family to the camp, without exception.


	30. In the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoelscher is on his way with the girls. But even he can't spare them a shock.

"May I ask you a question, Maid Duisberg?" the Captain asked and Margret looked at him. Then she looked back, as if to make sure that her little sisters and their two companions were still with them. "Margret. And yes. you may, Captain."

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" Margret stopped and looked at him in astonishment. "Why are you asking this question? Besides, I don't know you enough for that." "This is exactly why I ask the question. Lately a lot of things have happened and... well... the war leaves its impressions on all of us... and we all have our orders, whether we like them or not..." He looked down, embarrassed. Margret slowly moved on, thinking about his words.

"You seem to have decency... manners even... a rare gift for a soldier, I think. Perhaps even more so for an officer... but I don't understand enough about that. You leave the impression of a good person on me, Captain."

Hoelscher swallowed and cursed himself. He should've been honest with the girls, should've told them their father was no longer alive. But he didn't have the heart after their mother's death. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. They were close to the camp. If he didn't tell them now, it was too late...

"Maid Margret... I... I wasn't completely honest with you." he said and cleared his throat. "About the reason for my coming, I mean..." His throat tightened slowly when he saw the look in her eyes. "What do you mean? You said, father was still in the camp ... and that we should accompany you for our own protection for the time being."

"That's true... in a way. However, I have to tell you something else and I beg you not to hate me." Her eyes rested on him. "Then speak." "I... I..." Hoelscher stuttered. "See... your father..."

A scream interrupted him. "Papa! Papa, no!" the youngest girl cried out and Hoelscher was startled. They had reached the thick beech tree on the edge of the camp. The Mayor's body had been hung from the lowest branch, gutted like a common traitor.

Hoelscher's stomach wanted to turn and he swallowed the bitter bile with all his might. The middle Duisberg sister knelt on the forest ground and vomited, embraced by her little sister. Both girls started to cry. Beside him he heard Margret breathing, deeply and heavily, her hand clawing painfully into his arm. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her away from the sight, her head pressed against his chest. "Don't look... please don't look..." he implored her and an excruciating cry broke out of her mouth. Then she began to sob, too.

"Sorry you saw this. I swear, I didn't know anything about this." Margret tried to push him away and beat his chest with her fists helplessly. "You murderer! You damned murderer..." Hoelscher understood her anger and pressed her to his chest. "I honestly swear, I couldn't do anything for him. I liked your father, Maid Margret... I didn't want this to happen, you have to believe me. And I would never have allowed... this... to be done to him..."

He felt her trembling, her hard sobs on his chest, and rubbed her back comfortingly. There was nothing more he could do for the moment. Then he felt her breathing deeply and straightening her posture. She was strong, just like her father, and Hoelscher admired her for that.

"That's what you wanted to tell me, wasn't it? That father is no longer alive." she stated soberly and released herself from his embrace. He looked to the ground in shame and nodded. "Please forgive... I couldn't... not after the death of your mother..." he whispered and felt her hand on his shoulder... mild and fatherly... so much like her own father. "I understand your reasons, Captain, as much as the pain tears me apart. You were just trying to spare our feelings." He looked into her eyes and saw the warmth in them. "And I still consider you a good person, Captain. And now obey your order and bring us to the camp."


	31. Willpower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls shall stay in the General's tent as his guests. But the eldest sister is out for confrontation...

"General, the Duisberg sisters, as ordered." reported Hoelscher and let the girls enter. Boenninghausen rose and gave the girls a polite nod. Then he turned back to Hoelscher. "Haven't you forgotten someone, Captain?" "No, Sir. The unfortunate mother has succumbed to her illness."

Boenninghausen couldn't control his face enough, Hoelscher noticed the brief twitch around his eyes. This news seemed to have hit him. "Please accept my condolences."

This almost affectionate tone was also completely alien to Hoelscher. Was it possible that the merciless and relentless devil Boenninghausen had something like a heart after all? Should he not only have known Duisberg, but also his wife?

"I hope your condolences apply equally to the death of our father, General." Both Hoelscher and Boenninghausen's eyes literally flew to Margret. The girl really had guts to address the General so bluntly. Her sisters looked horrified. "Are you insane? Be silent." hissed her little sister. "Please forgive our sister, Sir... the death of our parents shook her badly." the middle sister tried to appease.

"Of course, I understand you. And you are not the first to insult me because of Mayor Duisberg's death." "Insult? I asked you a simple question, General. Do your condolences also apply to father's death?" Margret asked coolly and unimpressed. 

"I may be mistaken, but I generally expressed my condolences, Maid Duisberg." Boenninghausen replied in a mild voice and leaned against the edge of his table with crossed arms. Hoelscher listened up. He knew this tone very well, as well as this posture. His General got angry...

"You did, Sir. And we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Please be lenient with our sister. Even our father was sometimes desperate about her sharp tongue." Helena jumped in again. She seemed to be the born mediator with her sense for moods. Hoelscher smiled inwardly. Even he could learn something from this girl, because the fire in his commandant's eyes vanished again. Not only that, the corner of his mouth twitched with apparent amusement.

"Even your father? That means something, because I knew him as a patient person." "Is that why he was hung from a tree like a mean traitor? Or was that why he had to die?" "Shut up, for heaven's sake! What devil got into you?" Helena got excited now.

Boenninghausen laughed contemptuously. "It seems to be me. A devil who wants to speak to the other ... I suspect my nicknames have already got through to you." "Indeed, General. I am familiar with both, the butcher and the devil." "And now it is your aim to talk on an equal basis with me, yes? I give you a good advice, girl... let it be. Others have already tried that. You'll lose. You can report only too well about that, can't you, Captain? "

Hoelscher bowed his head. "Yes, Sir." he whispered humbly. "You could do me a service, Captain. Try to get a bottle of wine from the sutler. Tempers are a little too heated." "But... but, General..." objected Hoelscher. "That was NOT a request, Hoelscher." He opened his sword belt and put his saber on the table. "I'm not going to harm the girls in any way. Go." Reluctantly, Hoelscher obeyed and left the tent.

"Do me a favor and sit down, please. You are my guests." The two younger girls followed his request, the oldest sister did not. "Guests? Is that what they call hostages now?" she asked with a raised eyebrow and crossed her arms. Boenninghausen had to laugh against his will. This girl was so much her father's child, only considerably more impudent. 'O Henrich, if you could see this now...' he thought.

"Would you tell me the reason for your cheerfulness, General?" "Of course. On the one hand it amuses me how much you are the daughter of your father... although he was considerably more modest and humble than you, and on the other hand I am amused by your question. Why should you be my hostages? What use could you have for me? The city already IS in my hand... surrendered unconditionally at my mercy."

Margret looked at him and licked her lips. "And?" she asked. "And what, girl?" "You have a reputation, General. What will you grant this city? Mercy? Or disgrace, like our father? Or Magdeburg?"

"Margret, stop it!" "Just let your sister talk. It's her neck she's talking into the nooze." Boenninghausen replied mildly and silenced the younger sisters with one look of his glowing blue-gray eyes.

"You may not be aware of it, girl, but the only reason why your sharp tongue isn't torn out already is, because I truly admire your guts." Boenninghausen said and sat on the edge of the table with a dangerous smile. "You are not only sharp-tongued, you are also an intelligent creature. A very dangerous combination." He slowly stroked his goatee.

"But to get back to your question, Maid Duisberg... I may have a reputation since Magdeburg, yes, and it is not even untrue, but it did not happen on my orders. Tilly and Pappenheim had authority in Magdeburg, and the city was sacked... after weeks. YOUR city, on the other hand, surrendered... immediately. So why should the answer be disgrace?"

"Maybe because our father is dead. Why, General? Why is he dead? And why are we here if not as your hostages?"

Boenninghausen admired her tenacity. The girl actually demanded his respect. In general, all three girls seemed to be extraordinary. 

He had sworn last night, drunk as he had been, to wipe out Duisberg's bloodline. It still had been a seducing thought when he had woken up this morning, but when the girls had entered his tent, it had been instantly forgotten. Duisberg's children really were still children, the oldest maybe 16 or 17, the youngest, an image of her mother, could be a maximum of 13.

No, last night he hadn't been in control of himself. He might be called the Butcher, but that? No, he didn't kill innocent children, especially girls ... not after what he had to see in Magdeburg. Looting, rape, murder ... his men had raged in town almost three years ago, too… like the others had. And he had let them rage like the other officers had... and thanked God on his knees that Tilly had died the following year. With that his big army had collapsed and Boenninghausen had built his own... with his rules. Civilian population had to be spared as much as possible, more than looting was not allowed... whoever violated the rules was punished, mercilessly.

Perhaps he should have explained this to his young Captain last night instead of humiliating him. Maybe he would do it later. Today, after the first quiet and sleepy night in days, the world had become so different.

"Don't you want to answer me, General?" Boenninghausen startled out of his thoughts. Did his mind really wander off? It hadn't happened to him for a long time.

"You are here for your protection, Maid Duisberg." he replied, pulling one knee to his chest, the heel of his boot on the edge of the table. "Protection? Who do we need to be protected of?" "My men. I promised your father nothing would happen to you."

Margret snorted contemptuously. "I believe that instantly." "Cynicism doesn't suit you. Still, it's the truth. Your father was my hostage, and admittedly we didn't like each other. Still, I promised not to touch his family. That's why you are my guests. Your well-being was his last wish."

"His last wish?! How dare you speak of his last wish?" Margret got excited and her blue eyes glowed like two exploding stars. Boenninghausen rose from the edge of the table and moved closer, slowly pushing her over to her sisters while she tried to keep distance between them.

"Moderate your tone, girl. My friendliness this far arises from the fact that you are so young and had to endure two heavy losses. But my patience has limits too, and certainly smaller ones than those of your father." he growled with narrow gray-green eyes and wide nostrils. "Don't make me remember you as the first woman I ever slapped... I didn't even slap your mother."

Margret bumped against a chair with her legs and lost her balance. Her sister could just pull her onto the empty chair next to her.

"And if you want to know exactly, girl... with his last breath your father implored me to spare you children. But if you continue to irritate and insult me, then I might be willing to change my mind!"

The girls looked up to him in horror, the younger ones avoided his glowing green eyes and snuggled against each other for protection. 

"Please, Sir ... please forgive our sister." asked Helena and turned to Margret. "And you shut up. Isn't it enough that father is dead... and mother? Do you want us to die too?" she whispered, hugging her little sister. "Think of us, too. We don't want to die." she sobbed and leaned her head on Caterina's shoulder.

"This bastard insults our parents' memory and you demand..."

Boenninghausen gave her a hard slap in the face and Margret fell silent. "I warned you, child. That's the final drop." he growled with an angry face and turned away from her. Caterina began to cry heartbreakingly and clung to her sister, who held her in her arms protectively. "Hope, you are satisfied now." Helena growled.

"I'm ashamed of your cowardice, Lena!" shouted Margret, jumping up from her chair, her hand still on the red print on her face. "Father would be ashamed if he could see you!" "Father would spank you over his lap if he could see YOU. He would NEVER have lost his temper like you. Rather he'd died..." "What he did... murdered by... by... this..." "Don't say it, Margret. Do NOT say it." Helena implored her. Margret let out her pain and anger with a scream. Then she threw herself on her knees and cried in her sister's lap.


	32. A Deed of Affect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margret seems to have calmed down again... but only to do something really stupid and reckless.

Helena felt miserable. She would have liked nothing more than to break down and cry herself. But her sisters needed her strength now, more than ever before. Her big sister had taken care of their mother for so long, hadn't given up hope of recovery until the end ... the blow had been hard. And now father ...

Helena could even understand that Margret was now verbally lashing out in all directions, but she couldn't understand that she irritated and insulted the very man who had their lives in his hand. Her sister soon turned 18, she was a grown woman ... if it weren't for her sharp tongue and mother's hot temper she could have been married by now. Then at least she would be safe...

And her little sister ... how hard must she suffer right now? There was no person in the world whom she had loved, if not adored, as much as Father. Helena could still feel her trembling with tears. She felt so helpless. Otherwise always a source of strength and consolation for her sisters, she now felt empty, hollow even. She closed her eyes and leant her forehead against her little sister's head. Now tears were burning in her eyes too, but she clenched her jaw. She wasn't going to cry now, no way. She forbade herself to do that.

She felt Margret slowly lift her head again and get up from her knees. Helena took a relieved breath. At least she seemed to be in control again. "Have you calmed down, Maid Duisberg?" she heard the General's voice. He sounded as if his anger had subsided again, for which Helena was immensely grateful. "Yes, Sir... please forgive me for offending you."

Helena listened up. Pleading? Humble? She didn't recognize this tone from her sister. Could the General have actually managed what even father had been desperate about? "I have to apologize for the slap. You don't hit a woman." "It was probably necessary." admitted Margret.

Was that really her big sister? The woman who was born to be a pain in the ass and a fury? Helena didn't believe her ears.

"Didn't you send your captain away? Wine doesn't sound too bad. Father didn't like alcohol, but I think I could need some."

Helena raised her head and looked at her sister, who had again sought the General's proximity. Alcohol? Margret? That didn't suit her at all. Boenninghausen smiled almost mildly. "I also wonder where he's staying." He turned away from Margret and went to the tent entrance. At that moment Margret rushed to the table, grabbed Boenninghausen's saber and tore it from its sheath.

"Margret, NO!" Helena shouted, seeing with horror how Margret attacked the General with the blade. Boenninghausen spun around and tried to avoid her blow, but she seriously injured his upper arm.

Screaming, he grabbed Margret, who was struggling like crazy, by the wrist and twisted her arm until she dropped the saber. Then he forced her to the ground and pressed his knee into her back.

"Guards! Guards, damn!" he yelled and two guards stormed into the tent. "For this you'll pay with your life, you fury. Tie this woman up! And then find me as much wood as you can. The witch will end up at the stake!" he ordered, getting up while the guards tried to restrain and tie Margret.

Helena was thunderous. He didn't order that, did he? He couldn't have ordered that...

The pain was driving him insane. He pressed his hand on the gaping wound on his left arm and felt the warm blood run over his fingers. "O my God, Sir, what happened?" Hoelscher gasped, entering the tent with a wine jug in his hand.

"Coming back finally?" Boenninghausen growled with clenched jaw and clawed his hand tighter on the wound. "Get me the surgeon here... NOW!" Hoelscher dropped the jug and rushed out of the tent. "I hope you bastard perish miserably!" shouted Margret, who still fought madly against the guards. "You won't live to see that, you miserable bitch. Tame her, damn it, and if you have to break every bone in her body! And then get her out of my sight!" he roared.

Hoelscher came back with the surgeon, who immediately took care of the wound on the General's arm. "Alcohol. I need to clean the wound." he said calmly as he tore open the sleeve of the shirt. "You were lucky, Sir. Just a flesh wound." Hoelscher handed him the wine jug. "Don't you have anything stronger?" Hoelscher stretched his arm across the table and reached for the brandy. The surgeon wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell. "Perfect."

He raised Boenninghausen's arm. "Sorry... has to be." he apologized and poured the sharp alcohol over the wound. Boenninghausen gritted his teeth and suppressed the scream the best he could. It burned like hellfire. The surgeon reached into his pocket and took out needle, yarn and a bandage and started sewing the wound. "It will leave a scar, but your arm will heal again, General. Just move it as little as possible. I will check on you daily." He wound the bandage around the General's arm and fixed it. "Thank you." Boenninghausen growled in pain and the surgeon left. 

In the meantime the guards had finally tied up and gagged Margret. "Get that witch out and burn her!" he growled, taking a long swig of the remaining brandy against the pain.

"Sir, please..." Hoelscher started, but Boenninghausen silenced him with a look of his burning green eyes. The guards grabbed the squirming girl and carried her out.

"Have mercy, General." Helena had carefully approached him, finally awakened from her shock, and looked up to him with pleading eyes. "Spare my sister, please." Boenninghausen averted his gaze and wanted to turn to the entrance, but Helena stepped in his way, fell on her knees and took his right hand. "I beg you, Sir... let my sister live. Please..." she pleaded and kissed his bloody knuckles, trying to suppress her sobs. "Whatever you want, General... please, I'll do it... anything you demand... but please have mercy on my sister. I'm begging your clemency, Sir."

Tears flowed down her face as she looked up to him and knew all pleading was in vain when he looked down on her with burning gray-green eyes. He would do what he said. There was no hope left for Margret.

"Yes, you WILL do what I demand. You will watch... to ensure that you know what can happen to you." he growled coldly. A shock flashed through Helena's body. How hard was this man towering above her? How cold was his heart? They had lost their parents already and now they should lose their sister. He couldn't do this to little Caterina… please, dear God, don't let him do this... she was so young and delicate, already shaken inside. Helena couldn't let that happen, rather she'd kill herself.

"Spare my little sister. Please, General…" she begged desperately, her fingers gently kneading his bloody hand unconsciously. "I beseech you... please, she's only twelve... and she already suffered so much... please don't make her watch it." she pleaded, her voice tear-choked, and pressed her trembling lips on the back of his hand, feeling him slowly withdrawing it. She looked up again, tears flowing from her brown eyes like rivers. "Please, Sir... be merciful. Please... it's not necessary to make her watch this. Whatever you demand, she will obey… I'll ensure that, I swear on my life... please..."

Her voice finally failed and in desperation she wept against his thigh.

"You probably saved my life, child… so I'll grant you this request. The Captain stays with your sister. But you… you will do as I said."


	33. Loathing and Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoelscher tries to distract the youngest sister. He has never been ashamed so much in his life.

Hoelscher had never loathed his General as much as he did at this moment. He didn't know what had happened during his absence, except that the oldest Duisberg girl must have attacked the General. He should have followed his instinct and have stayed in the tent, but who could have guessed that one of the girls would be capable of such an act? He would even understand that this attack resulted in a punishment. This was a war camp, anyone attacking an officer risked his life. But Margret was a woman, not a soldier. To condemn her to death, and then at the stake ... Hoelscher felt sick just thinking about it.

He sat on the floor with little Caterina on his lap, rocking her back and forth, and sang a song to her. His mother had always sung it when he was small. With that he tried not only to distract the girl from the screams outside, but also himself. Lost in thought, he stroked her blond curls and tried to control his voice so far that she didn't notice that tears were running down his own face, too.

He couldn't stand it under the General anymore. He had to get away from here. Any other commanding officer was fine for him, as long as he got away from Boenninghausen. Should he just run away? No, he didn't dare. He knew the punishment for deserting. If he were caught, he would be dead. No, he would ask for a transfer. The town belonged to them, Boenninghausen no longer needed him.

The screams outside fell silent, but Hoelscher sang his song one more time for Caterina and stroked her head. Margaret's suffering had come to an end. She was now beyond all pain. He prayed a silent Ave Maria for her and then prayed for forgiveness for his own weakness.

He shouldn't have let that happen, but Boenninghausen had finally broken him with the forced knee-fall last night. He hugged Caterina to his chest and silently began to cry in shame.


	34. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls say goodbye before returning to the city. And the General is not untouched by the sight.

Helena and Caterina stood by the old beech and said goodbye. Both girls wept bitter tears, Helena at the remains of her sister's pyre, Caterina kneeling at the feet of her father, who was still hanging at the tree.

"Do you see now where your duties have led, father?" she sobbed, remembering the last conversation she'd had with him. "What did you die for, father? What..." Her voice cracked and she leaned her forehead against his ankle, clutching his leg with both hands. "We have never needed you as much as we do now, Papa... I miss you so much... please, come back... please, dear God, send my Papa back… make him live again... please..."

It broke Helena's heart to see her little sister like this. She carefully knelt beside her and put her arm around her. "You're only hurting yourself, dear." she said softly, but Caterina didn't react. "Come on, darling. We have to go." she said, pulling her gently, but Caterina desperately clung to her dead father. "Leave me... leave me! I want to stay with Papa... he needs me... he's alone!" she screamed and snuggled against his leg.

"He's not alone, darling. Mom is with him... and Margret. They'll take care of Papa." Caterina was sobbing and still crying against her father's leg. "Believe me, darling. They will take good care of Papa. But I need you... without you I am alone." she said sensitively and hugged her little sister. "I've never needed you more than now, little sister."

Helena felt how Caterina slowly detached herself from her father, still shaken with tears. "I have no one left but you, Cati. You are all I still have, darling." she whispered tenderly and kissed Caterina's cheek. Caterina slowly turned to her sister and looked at her. "Will he let us live, Lena? Or will he kill us too?" she asked, blinking one last tear from her eyes.

"He'll let us live, darling. Believe me, he'll let us live... as long as we obey him... and do what he demands. And he demands that we go back to the city with him. So be a good girl and come with me."

Both girls rose slowly. Caterina kissed her fingertips and touched her father's cold hand. 

"Ask Margret to forgive me for not saying goodbye to her." she asked, and one last tear rolled down her cheek. Then she turned away and followed her sister to the General, who was already waiting for them.

~~~~~

He shouldn't have done that... never. Which demon had taken possession of him? The girl wasn't one of his men, he shouldn't have killed her. Shackled and guarded, yes... maybe a few lashes as punishment... but burn her like a witch... deaf to the heartbreaking pleas of her sister, whom he had mercilessly forced to watch...

Did he even have a heart? 

Boenninghausen asked himself this question while he watched the girls from the back of his horse. He had to have one, buried deep inside himself somewhere, because it hurt to watch the younger girl. How much must she have loved her father when she begged God to bring Duisberg back to life. It stabbed him in the chest. He knew this pain all too well himself... he also had adored his father.

Father... he had been a good man. Sincere, honest, tenacious, sometimes irascible, but warm-hearted. What a disappointment Lothar must have been for him... probably more now than then. What had only become of him? 

He had once been decent, friendly and well mannered... he loved to laugh, he remembered... but it all ended when he joined the army. There his upbringing didn't matter, only obedience was important, even against his heart... and there he had lost his heart, buried under command and obedience, smashed and shredded by murder and fire. And today, twenty years later? He was no better than the men he had hated and feared back then himself.

The pain in his arm tore him from his thoughts and he clenched his teeth, breathing deeply. His attention returned to the girls, who were now both kneeling by their father's corpse. The younger one clung to him desperately and he felt another stab in his heart when he heard her scream that she wanted to stay with her Papa. He hadn't wanted that... not this way.

Yes, he had wanted to use a mole to make sure he had a reason to attack. Yes, he had hoped that Duisberg would be sent to him as a negotiator. Yes, he had an inner need to get back at this man who had ruined his life... to hurt and humiliate him for it... but he hadn't wanted to kill him. Duisberg was a civilian, not a soldier, and civilians were to be spared. It was his own rule, his own iron law... and he himself had broken it. Even twice in the course of a day. 

Duisberg had been an accident, not excusable, but forgivable... But not the daughter... and even less the brutality and cruelty with which he had made her die...

Again the pain raced through his arm and he stifled a groan, tasting bitter bile in his mouth. 'That damn beast! I should have twisted her neck!' shot through his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and chased the thought away. 

Where did this thought come from all of a sudden? Was he also prone to hot temper like his father? He spat out the bile and looked back at the girls. They seemed to have said goodbye and slowly came over to him. At the sight of their faces he felt tears burning in his eyes and blinked them away. He looked at Duisberg's corpse and closed his eyes. Something like yesterday morning or the night before was not allowed to happen again. Under no circumstances! 

'Forgive me, Henrich... please. I cannot undo all of this and I am truly sorry. I swear to you, I will protect your girls.' he thought regretfully and opened his eyes again. 

"We're ready, General." Helena said softly. He nodded and indicated to a soldier to help her on his horse and the little one on Hoelscher's horse. Helena carefully put her arms around his waist. "Sitting well?" "Yes, Sir." she replied softly. "Good. And you…" he said, turning to the soldier. "Cut him loose." he ordered and pressed his calves into the horse's flank.


	35. Explicit Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General returns to the city with the girls... and must witness, that some of his soldiers severely disobey his orders.

When they passed the city gate, an ugly scene took place in front of them and Boenninghausen and Hoelscher stopped their horses. A young boy, maybe 12 years old, was held by two soldiers while two more beat him up. A screaming woman was prevented from intervening by two others. Helena pressed her face against Boenninghausen's shoulder to not see it.

"Attention!" Hoelscher shouted and the six soldiers immediately turned their attention towards him. When they saw their General standing in front of them, they immediately let go of the young boy. The woman caught him and slowly sank to the ground with him.

"What's going on here?" the General asked in a menacing tone. "Your orders were clear... the civilian population will not be touched." he said sternly and looked at one after the other. "And yet you are beating someone up in the street... a child. Why?" One of the soldiers stepped forward, a rifle in his hand.

"Sir, this boy attacked us and refused to hand the rifle over willingly." "That's a lie!" the woman cried out, kneeling on the floor, caressing the boy's bloody face. One of the soldiers kicked her. 

"I said civilian population will NOT be touched!" Boenninghausen roared, his voice utter anger. He felt Helena huddle against his back, trembling. Did she do this out of fear? Or was that her attempt to appease him? No matter why she did it, he had sworn something. Civilians were spared. If the boy had really done what his men said he would have to make an example. But if the woman was telling the truth…

"If one of you dares to twist the woman only a single hair, you will get to know me!" He turned his attention to the woman. She seemed to be the boy's mother.

"Please, mother, go on. Tell me what happened here." he said to her, his voice now full of warmth. "Who... who are you?" she asked, intimidated, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "The General asks the questions, not you, woman!" one of the soldiers snorted and the woman winced.

"And none of you opens your mouth without being asked, damn it! I'm talking to the woman, you're silent!" The soldiers froze, some looked at the ground.

"So one more time, mother. What happened?" The woman looked at the soldiers, her eyes full of fear. Then she looked at the General. "We... we were told... all weapons, from every house, should be handed in at the town hall… by... by order of the General."

The boy on her lap started coughing and spat out blood. His mother carefully held his head on her lap and wiped the blood from his mouth. The General waited patiently until the mother turned back to him. "You... you are the General?" she asked and Boenninghausen nodded. "That... that rifle was my husband's. He... he died in autumn… the flu... he was... at the city watch, you know..." she sobbed.

"I see. Go on, mother." he said with compassion and felt Helena's tremors subside. "I gave the rifle to my son... told him to take it and bring it to City Hall... to hand it in there as ordered..." She took a deep breath. "So he took the rifle in both hands like my husband had shown him and was hardly out the door when he ran into these... these... soldiers. They ordered him to drop the gun and surrender... which my boy didn't do... he didn't understand what they wanted from him. He was told to drop the gun, but he refused... because I told him 'bring it to City Hall and don't give it to anyone else on the way'. They beat him up for that..." She sobbed and kissed the boy's bloody face.

"My Thomas is a good boy, Sir... he didn't do anything wrong except to obey me..." she sobbed and looked up to Boenninghausen again. She was shocked when she saw his hard, angry face and pressed the boy closer to her. "Please... I am telling the truth... please, Sir, do not harm him." she pleaded.

The General felt Helena's arms tighten around his waist during this plea. Did she really think he was going to harm the boy? A child? He couldn't even blame her.

He looked at the soldiers and beckoned the oldest of the group over to him. "Is that true?" he asked softly, the velvet in his voice covering cold steel underneath, and the soldier shuddered. "Sir, I... we... please..." "I don't want your whimpers, I want an answer. Is it true what the woman said?" he growled mercilessly. "The boy came running out of the house with the rifle in both hands... and he refused to give it to us... we... we thought..." the soldier stuttered.

So yes. He had almost feared it. Another example was needed so that something like this wouldn't happen in the first place. Boenninghausen exploded. Even his stallion tossed its head back nervously. "You thought! Leave the thinking to the horses, they have bigger heads! Did you really think a boy would attack six full-grown soldiers? And then you thought you had to beat the boy to death as a punishment, or what?"

The soldier bowed his head and pulled it between his shoulders. "Apart from the fact that you did not obey my explicit order! To disarm the boy by force would have been one thing, but this is unforgivable!" He turned to his Captain in anger. "Hoelscher?" "Yes, Sir?" "Twenty for each... for disobedience." "But Sir..." The General took a deep breath and silenced him with a look of his gray-green eyes. "I won't discuss, Hoelscher. Not this time. Twenty. Each one." he growled menacingly.

"General, please..." "And you don't even try, Ensign! Disobedience and mistreatment of defenseless … I'm still too kind. But maybe next time you will think first and act then." He gave his horse a firm nudge with the heels and left the soldiers behind.


	36. At Duisberg's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally they arrive at Duisberg's house... and several thoughts run through Cpt. Hoelscher's and Gen. Boenninghausen's mind.

They returned to Duisberg's house with the girls. Hoelscher jumped from his gelding and carefully lifted the girls down before his commander also slipped off his horse. Pain twitched his face as he landed on the pavement. Then he entered the house with the girls while Hoelscher tied up the horses. They would remain under his supervision and protection.

Hoelscher snorted at the very thought of it. He had seen the 'protection' of the oldest sister... on the other hand, the well-being of the civilians seemed to be important to him. Why else was he so angry about the episode with the rifle? Should the General have a human side somewhere? 

But if so, why didn't he show it? He was a fantastic strategist, based on what Hoelscher had heard and experienced himself, and a man with an extraordinary amount of charisma... even charm if he wanted. If it weren't for his hardness and mood swings, he could have had a reputation and popularity like Wallenstein long ago.

Hoelscher entered the house and closed the door. Wallenstein... he would certainly not break the pride of his own people by force. Or have them whipped almost to death mercilessly.

And his General had just ordered whiplashes again... although this time he could understand it. Disobedience had to be punished. And he himself had heard that Boenninghausen had ordered his men to protect and spare the population, explicitly. 

He bit his lower lip. He should have shut up this time. His commander was right. It was less of a punishment for those affected than a warning to others. He, too, should take the advice of his commanding officer and, in the future, think first and then open his mouth.

~~~~~

It pained him to see Anne on her deathbed. He remembered her as a beautiful girl. Now, after the illness had drained her, there was little left of it except her charming smile, which she still had even now in death. He felt tears rolling down his face and closed his eyes with ache in his chest.

So much had gone wrong back then in the forest on their little rendezvous... and even more so in the past two days... only because this girl had turned his head. And not just his head, as it seemed... 

She had been a good wife to Duisberg and a good mother to the girls, he felt it. "Forgive me, Anne... please... I'm truly sorry..." he whispered, sank to his knees by her bed with bowed head and prayed an Ave Maria for her. 

He hadn't prayed in a long time, had lost his faith years ago after what he had to witness during this neverending war, but this woman deserved a prayer, even if he didn't think anyone would answer it. Not his prayers... no more. He had become too bad a person to ever hope for God's grace again. More hot tears flowed down his face.

He was rightly nicknamed 'Devil'. If he died one day, the horned one would get him. Probably he would even come for him personally... 

'Please, God... Please, dear God, forgive me..."


	37. Tensions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the girls are back home they have a fight about how to adapt... and about what is cowardice.

The girls had gone upstairs and changed their clothes, dressed in black as it was fitting for people in mourning. "What do we do now, Lena? Now we have the General in the house..." 

Helena turned to her little sister. "What can we do now? We are weak women, darling. You saw what he did to our sister." "I wish she had succeeded." Caterina grumbled and turned away. Helena was with her in two quick steps and turned her around with a jerk. "You won't say that again, do you understand that? It could cost us our lives." "So be it..." Caterina growled and Helena backed away. 

What was suddenly going on with her sisters? Where did this bottomless hatred, this fatalism, come from? "Cati ... what ...?" she started and fell silent when her little sister looked up at her. Her eyes glowed with hatred and Helena kept her distance. 

"You can't seriously want to die, Cati... Father's sacrifice would have been in vain. He died to protect us..." "He died because that devil down there killed him in cold blood... just like our sister. That you even dare to submit to him voluntarily, Lena... that is beyond my understanding." 

Caterina was so much a temperamental hothead like her big sister, Helena had to recognize that again. She was almost amazed that her sister had remained so calm and still all the time since they left the camp. 

"I'm doing this for both of us, Cati... I want us to get through this... get through this safe and sound. And I'll do anything for it, little sister. Everything, do you understand me?" "Like begging on your knees in front of him like a coward?" 

"I can't remember that you tried anything to save our sister, Caterina... you sat in a corner, crying and shivering, while I begged like a coward... for you too, if I may remind you. It was not a nice sight to see our sister burn, Caterina... by no means. God grant I never have to see something like that again... "

Her voice cracked and tears rolled down her face, although she tried with all her might to control herself. "And this is how you thank me... with humiliation and hatred. Only because I wanted to prevent it... wanted to protect us all..." she sobbed and turned away from Caterina. 

She went to her bed, threw herself on it and cried, finally venting all her pain and her own fear. Did her sister have a clue of how much it had taken to 'beg like a coward' as she had called it? How much courage she had had to muster, almost paralyzed with the fear of sharing her sister's fate if she did?

But she had done it, had taken all her courage and had 'begged'... and she would do it again, every day if she had to, if only for the good of her little sister. To protect her, Helena would do anything, no matter what, even if Caterina hated her for it. 

But first she would do something else. Father... he was still in the camp. Perhaps the General was kind enough to allow her to attend to his funeral along with Mother's funeral. Slowly her tears dried up and she took a deep breath. That was a good idea. Keep herself busy. That would help. 

Slowly she got up from her bed and checked on her sister. Caterina lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling, ignoring her big sister. "I will go to the General. Do you want to come with me?" she asked, but Caterina said nothing. "I will ask his permission to bury Father." Caterina snorted. "Good luck, sister." she said scornfully. Helena gave up and left the room.


	38. Keeping Oneself Busy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena asks the General for permission to bury her parents... meanwhile her small sister forges other plans. But maybe the General isn't such a heartless bastard after all...

'That wretched bastard…' Caterina thought and clasped her hands behind her head.

The General had stolen what she loved most in this world. Her father had been the center of her life, her everything. She had loved him immensely, even if he had never had much time for her. He had been the best and kindest person on earth. 

Tears rolled down her face and her heart felt like it was being ripped out of her chest. And her own sister made a pact with the man who had stolen their father AND sister! If only she hadn't been so shattered about Father's death, she would have happily helped Margret to bring this bastard from life to death. 

She rolled over on her stomach and cried angrily in her pillow. At least Margret had tried... maybe she could finish what her big sister had started. And if it cost her life, so be it. As long as she could only take this piece of filth to death with her!

But that had to be done carefully. An act of affect like that of Margret would certainly fail again. She was a girl, she couldn't stand against a grown man. 

One thing she had observed. The General was strong. In addition, a tall man. Caterina guessed that he must have towered over her father by half a head at least. No, she wouldn't succeed with a weapon. 

She turned on her back again and stared at the ceiling. She couldn't think of anything. Poison was an option, but how should she manage to get some? For this she needed the help of the pharmacist or the Medicus... 

The Medicus! Of course! No, she wouldn't need his help... he already had helped. A satisfied smile spread across her face. She had a plan. 

Now she had to let a few days pass, had to be humble and obedient during this time... with a minimum of scratchiness so that Lena swallowed the bait and did not become suspicious. She should have kept her mouth shut earlier... 

But that didn't matter now. Time played for her. Just a little patience and a lot of courage... 'I'll be with you soon, Papa.' she thought and closed her eyes with a smile.

~~~~~

Helena found the General in her mother's room. He knelt beside her bed with folded hands, lost in thought as it seemed, and looked at the dead woman. He didn't even notice her entering. She stopped in the doorway and carefully cleared her throat. Boenninghausen startled.

"Forgive me ... I didn't mean to scare you." she said softly and lowered her eyes when she saw the damp marks on his face. Did he cry? At her mother's deathbed? Had he perhaps known her?

She remembered a sentence he had said to Margret yesterday. 'I didn't even slap your mother.' He must have known her, there was no doubt about that. And more occurred to her. 'I knew your father as a patient man.' he had said. 'We didn't like each other.' he had also said. Helena wished she could understand this. They must have known each other, their parents and the General. But the what and why was not clear to her.

"What do you want, child? Helena, right?" he asked after clearing his throat a little and rose from his knees. "Yes, Sir. I… I'd like to ask something of you." she said carefully, still looking down. She dared not to move a muscle, standing in the door frame like frozen. "And that would be?" His tone was impassive but earnest. Nervously, she began to fidget with her own fingers. Her heart began to beat faster with fear. 'Please don't make him angry.' she thought and took a deep breath. 

"Sir, I... I want... I'd like to ask for your permission to take care of the funeral. Mother's... and Father's." she asked with trembling voice and bowed her head, rigid with fear, waiting for his reaction.

"Granted." he said shortly and Helena looked up almost shocked. She hadn't expected this quick approval. He still looked at her indifferently. "Is there anything else?" "No... no Sir. Thank you." she said, gave a well-behaved curtsey and turned away, fearfully fleeing from his presence before he might change his mind. 

"Not so fast, child!" he called before she had even crossed the hallway. Helena stopped dead in her tracks and didn't dare to turn around. She heard his footsteps come closer on the wooden floor and began to tremble, every 'clack' of his heels sent another shiver down her spine. 

What could he want from her? Had she made him angry with the question? She clutched her fingers in her skirt, bowed her head in resignation and tried to control herself. She was almost scared to death when she felt his hand on her shoulder.

"You... Sir... I..." she stuttered as he slowly turned her around and lifted her chin. "I know that you are scared of me and I promise you that I will not harm you... neither you nor your sister." he said and looked her in the eye. Helena was afraid to return the eye contact and lowered her gaze. 

"What I did is unforgivable. Hate me, if you want. I can't even blame you. But don't be afraid of me anymore." He let go of Helena and she didn't move a muscle, she didn't even look up. She was too busy keeping her breath even. 

"I expected you would ask me to have your Father's body brought here." His voice was almost mild, but that didn't calm her at all. She had seen how quickly his mildness could turn into hardness. Shivers rolled down her back and she began to tremble all over. 

"I... I... please..." she stuttered and felt how he stroked her head. She was trembling, paralyzed. Her courage was exhausted, her throat constricted. She couldn't utter another word. 'Please let me go. Please... please just let me go.' she thought desperately. 

"It's okay, Helena. Just go. I'll comply with your request." Helena turned and ran up the stairs to her room.


	39. Transfer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cpt. Hoelscher asks for the General's consent to be transferred somewhere else. He should know his General better by now...

"General, I request your consent to my transfer." "Refused." Boenninghausen didn't even look up from his desk; the city household records occupied his entire attention. Puetter had given him all the information he had asked for, but he didn't want to rely on this man. He had also believed Duisberg's words about the fire damage… and had seen in the meantime what a talented liar he had been. 

"Please tell me the reason for your refusal, Sir." Boenninghausen took a deep breath. He had made absolutely clear that he did not want to be disturbed, but Hoelscher didn't seem to give a damn about this order.

He lifted his head just enough to give Hoelscher an intimidating look. "Don't make me punish my best man for disobedience, Hoelscher. You know, I'm not squeamish about that. Get out." he ordered and looked back at the books.

Hoelscher was not intimidated. Not this time. Boenninghausen wouldn't treat him like a green boy again. "If you tell me the reason for your refusal... Sir!" he emphasized. 

The General threw back his head, his gray-green eyes glowing with anger. Hoelscher saw the angry muscle twitching under his eyes and on the bridge of his nose. "It seems to me that you can't only not obey, Hoelscher, but also not listen." Boenninghausen answered and slowly rose from his chair, angrily propping his hands on the desk. Even like this, he towered over his Captain by half a head. 

"I already said it, Hoelscher... you are my goddamn best man in this whole damned army. And that's why I refuse to give my consent. Now get out!" Hoelscher's breathing quickened and he swallowed hard. Maybe he shouldn't irritate his commanding officer like that after all. But still, he needed it off his soul. 

"I am honored, Sir... yet I am requesting my transfer." He did his best not to let his increasing nervousness show. "I can't stand it here." Boenninghausen's eyebrows shot up and he straightened his back, his eyes still burning with anger, his nostrils wide. "You... CAN'T STAND it here?! Can't you think of a more stupid reason?! What are you, Captain? A girl?"

Hoelscher swallowed this insult. It wasn't the first. "If you want to know the truth, Sir... I can't bear it any longer under your command. I've gotten used to your mood swings. I want to ignore how you treat the men. I even want to forget the forced knee-fall... but what you did to the Duisberg family, I will never forgive you... and for that I hate you deeply. I cannot and will no longer serve under someone like you, General."

Boenninghausen slowly walked around the desk. "You want to ignore how I treat the men? How very gracious of you, Hoelscher." A cold shiver rolled down the young Captain's spine at this so velvety and mild voice, that couldn't cover the anger in the General's eyes. 

"Do you happen to remember what my orders were when you started under my command? My orders regarding civilians?" Hoelscher swallowed. "Civilians have to be spared the best possible way and not to be harmed on punishment. Note the little hint, Hoelscher... on punishment. And this order is given to all newcomers... without exception. So there is nothing for you to 'ignore' here. Every single man is warned." Hoelscher avoided those hard gray-green eyes. "Or was there something to be misunderstood about it, Hoelscher?"

"No, Sir." Hoelscher admitted. "Then get out. NOW!" Hoelscher looked up to his commanding officer. "Still, I request my transfer... Sir." "You can't hear very well, can you, Hoelscher?" Boenninghausen asked with an angry growl in his voice and pulled his dagger from his belt. 

"Do I have to open your ears with this first?" he asked, shortening the distance between himself and his Captain. "I said 'refused'." Hoelscher's pulse quickened and he slowly backed away. 

"And if you don't get out now, you will never have to worry about 'serving under me' again." Hoelscher bumped against the door with his back and winced. "Get… out..." Boenninghausen whispered and Hoelscher's heart skipped a beat. 

He felt nervously for the handle and opened the door just enough to get out of the room. The General kicked the door and Hoelscher was just out quick enough to not be hit by it. With a bang it slammed shut behind Hoelscher.


	40. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caterina tries to convince her sister to let her help with the sick.

"You want to do what, little sister?" "Take care of the sick at the infirmary, Lena. They need help and supplies from the city. Do you seriously think the soldiers care? They are our people, Lena. Our friends. The Medicus was here and told, how difficult the situation is... but your General was deaf to his requests." "He is not 'my General', Cati! And I forbid you to go to the infirmary." Caterina stubbornly let herself fall on her bed. She knew that Helena was a tough nut to crack, just like Father, but she had managed to crack him again and again. It just needed the right arguments...

"I have to do something, Lena... I can't bear to be locked in here all day. YOU deal with the funeral... however you got the General to allow it... but let me do something too... something where I'm not in his presence much. I promise you, I'll curb my hatred towards him... and the less I see him, the easier it will be for me." 

Helena was silent and thought about her little sister's words. Separating her and the General was probably for the best. Still, she didn't like the idea. "I don't want you to get this terrible flu too, Cati. Can't you understand that?" Lena was damn good at logical reasoning, Caterina had to acknowledge that. She had learned a great big deal of Papa. 

"You sound like Mama, Lena. And how long have we looked after her now? We should have gotten sick ourselves long ago... but we have not. That's why nothing will happen to me, sister. I'm sure of that." She waited a moment to let her argument sink in. She, too, had been an eager student in arguing.

"Please, Helena. The people there need all the help they can get. And maybe... I mean... you seem to have a connection with the General. Maybe... if I tell you what is needed... maybe you can convince him." Helena slowly began to walk around the room. Caterina saw in her face that her thoughts were chasing around. And she didn't seem completely averse to the plan anymore. "It's for our friends and neighbors, Lena... they would do the same for us. Or at least try to." This argument was final, Caterina saw it in Helena's eyes as she stopped.

"Well... I can't say I'm thrilled with your plan, little sister, but there is a lot of truth in your words. And if I can hold you two hotheads apart, then I'll be fine. At least if he gives his consent." Caterina was thunderous. "His consent?" she asked, dismayed. "Of course. We may be under his protection, as he calls it, but we are still his prisoners, Cati. We can't just do what we like. Otherwise I would have fled the city with you long ago, like some other families in the last three days." 

Caterina's breath caught. That possibility hadn't even occurred to her. But she'd rather bite her tongue off than ask the General's permission herself. 

"Lena?" "What, dear?" "Would... would you do me a favor?" she asked, lowering her eyes. "Which one?" Lena asked and sat down next to her on the bed. "You know... you know, I have my... difficulties with... HIM." she said softly and looked at her sister with pleading puppy eyes. "Would... would you... ask his permission? Please?" Helena took a deep breath. 

"I feared something similar. I've known you long enough, little sister." "Please... for my sake." Caterina pushed with a gentle pout and saw Helena's inner refusal fall. She too knew her sister long enough. She was so much like father. Caterina had also softened him with puppy eyes and a pout... unless mother intervened beforehand, who knew only too well how manipulative her youngest daughter could be. 

"All right, Cati. If it means that much, then I'll try. But I can't make any promises." Cati hugged her sister. That wretched dog of a General would give in, she had no doubt about that. How happy she was secretly that Margret had only told her what was lurking in the infirmary... Soon, General... soon...


	41. Small Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caterina is sick and needs medication. Helena tries to take care for her the best she can manage. Meanwhile the General receives a horrible message...

"Child, I'm worried about you. You're so pale." the General said with worry two days later. Caterina's delicate body was suddenly shaken by a violent fit of coughing. 

"Look at me, child." he said, lifting her chin. Caterina was pale as a sheet, her eyes slightly red. Boenninghausen felt the glowing heat of her skin on his fingertips... the girl had a fever...

He knew he shouldn't have given his approval. When Helena had asked for his permission, he immediately had had a bad feeling. But he hadn't given in to it. He wanted to prove that he was a sociable person... had become one again. The people here shouldn't be scared to death of him. He didn't want to be remembered as a butcher in his old home. 

His old home... it might be war, but sometimes he forgot it for a few moments the last few days. He also no longer had that excessive need to get drunk as he used to. Was it the girls he'd sworn to look after? Was it this stretch of land he hadn't seen in nearly twenty years? Whatever it was, something in his heart had changed. He no longer wanted to be the hard-hearted and cold-blooded devil. That's why he understood that Helena was making this request and not her little sister, whose hatred he felt every day. 

Despite his bad feeling, he had agreed, now he saw the result. The kid had brought the bloody flu into the house. Caterina was shaken again by a violent fit of coughing, her face contorted in pain. 

"Helena. Helena!" he called through the house and tried to get the coughing girl onto his arms. Pain raced through his injured arm, but he clenched his teeth. The child had to go to bed immediately. 

Helena met him on the way to the stairs. "What happened?" she asked anxiously. "Your sister is sick. She has to go to bed. Which is your room?" Helena led him up the stairs, opened the door and threw the covers back on Caterina's bed. He carefully put the girl down onto the bed.

Again Caterina was shaken by the cough. "Does she have a fever?" Helena asked. "Yes, she glows like a hot iron." 

Helena took off her sister's shoes and stockings and covered her with the blanket. "Thank you, Sir. I'll do what I can. Please go now before you get infected too."

Boenninghausen nodded and left the room. He shouldn't have allowed it, damn. He had sworn something to Henrich and so he kept his word. Shame ate into his chest and he craved a drink. 

No! He forbade himself to do that. No alcohol. Not while he was taking care of the girls.

~~~~~

"Stupid little sister." Helena scolded her as she made her cold calf compresses against the fever. "I warned you, and now you're sick. Why didn't you listen to me?"

Caterina pressed the blanket over her mouth and coughed. The cough shook her delicate body mercilessly. Helena wrapped Caterina's other leg in a cold compress and covered her little sister again. Then she put a cold cloth on her forehead. 

"I don't want to lose you too, little sister." she whispered and kissed Caterina's hot cheek. "Please, get well again, darling. Don't leave me alone... don't leave me alone with him..." Caterina coughed again and looked up weakly at her sister. Her otherwise lively blue-gray eyes had lost their glow and dark circles were emerging under them. 

"It hurts so much, Lena... my chest hurts so much..." she moaned with tears in her eyes. "I'll go straight to the pharmacist, dear... and I'll go get the Medicus." 

She wanted to get up but Caterina literally clawed her hands into Lena's wrist. Under no circumstances could she call the Medicus. Then her plan would be ruined. 

"No... no... he has enough to do, Lena... the people at the infirmary need him..." she moaned in a begging voice. "You too..." "No... no, Lena..." Caterina insisted and coughed. "Promised... I know it's the flu... it's my own fault... the Medicus can't do more than the pharmacist..." she gasped. Helena let her head drop back and closed her eyes in despair. 

Of course, in a sense, Caterina was right. She had taken care of people with the flu, so of course she had it herself now. And she had cared for her mother long enough to remember what kind of medicine the Medicus had prescribed. It would be enough to see the pharmacist. 

"It's okay, Cati. It's okay..." she soothed her little sister, took the warm cloth from her forehead, washed it out with cold water and put it back on her forehead. "I'll be back soon, dear... I won't need half an hour's time, I promise." she said and kissed Caterina goodbye on her hot cheek.

"How is she?" the General asked as Helena hurried down the stairs. "Bad, Sir. I... I have to go to the pharmacist for medicine... if you allow it, please." 

"Of course I allow it… do you need something? Can I do something?" he asked worried, but Helena shook her head. 

"No, Sir. You can't help... and I know what to do after mother... mother's long illness." 

Boenninghausen looked down and nodded. "Then go... hurry up. Take the guard in front of the door for protection, I don't want anything to happen to you too." 

Helena nodded gratefully and hurried out of the house.

~~~~~

The pharmacist put together several herbs for her to make tea and made her an ointment to rub in. 

"Did you make her cold compresses?" he asked and Helena nodded, "Good. Can you make her some broth? She needs something that she can get down easily and what keeps her strong." 

Helena shook her head. Their supplies at home were as good as gone, and the sacking of the city caused severe supply shortages. 

"Then I'll send my wife to your house later. We still have a little bit to share. And I also ask my neighbours for help. We all have to stick together now." he said sympathetically and gave Helena the little package of medicine. "Come back if you need more." 

"But... but I have no money..." "Forget the money, child. Your father was a good man, always there for each of us. It is only decent of all of us to be there for his family in these times. Well, but go now... don't leave your sister alone for too long." "Thank you." Helena said with tears in her eyes and left the pharmacy.

~~~~~

"What do you want here? At the moment I am not even half interested in your transfer requests, Hoelscher… get out!" Helena heard the General roar as she re-entered the house. As quietly as possible, she closed the door... not quietly enough. "Is that you, girl?" she heard Boenninghausen calling and literally petrified in the hallway. 

"Yes, Sir. Don't be bothered, I'll go upstairs immediately." she called back and hurried up the stairs. Whatever the young Captain was enraging the General with, she didn't want to be around. Heaven knew what he might be capable of. 

She entered their room as quietly as possible. Caterina seemed to have fallen asleep. Helena took a deep breath. All the better. 

Carefully she took the now dry cloth from Caterina's glowing and sweaty face. The water in the bowl wasn't cold anymore either. It would be best if she got some fresh water. Then she could boil some for tea right away. 

She opened the window, looked down, and poured the water to the street. Then she sneaked out of the room and walked slowly and quietly down the stairs to the kitchen. 

"I swear to the Lord, General, it's the truth. I've seen it myself. It's the black death." she heard Hoelscher as she passed the leaned open door of her father's study and froze midstep. Did he really just say that? 

"Where did you see that?" Boenninghausen asked. "In the houses at the north gate… it's called 'Northern Trench'. In at least three houses no soul is alive anymore." "Let the gates be shut immediately. Nobody is allowed to pass them without my explicit permission. Take the surgeon and a few secretive men. The dead must be burned immediately and the houses fumigated. Immediately, Hoelscher! The plague must not penetrate the city." 

"General, we should get out of here before our men get sick." she heard the young Captain object.

"It's probably too late for that, Hoelscher. Some of our people are housed in this area. If we leave now without coordination, they could make us all sick. Keep the men isolated in this district. If it's really the Black Death, we might have overcome it in a few days." 

"General, you can't be serious!" Hoelscher got excited. "I know this sounds cold-hearted to you now, Hoelscher, but you have to trust my judgment. I know of cities that have overcome the plague quickly with iron isolation. So go and do as I said. NOW!" 

Helena hurried into the kitchen. That was terrible news. She was barely able to light the stove with her trembling fingers. As the water started to boil, she sent silent prayers to Heaven that the General would be right and that they would get through this terrible disease quickly.

~~~~~

"Helena, a Frau Kramer was here. She left this for you." Boenninghausen said, holding a small copper pot in his hands. "She said it's for your little sister." 

Helena looked up from her sister to the door frame. "The pharmacist's wife… thank you, Sir." she said, getting up from the edge of the bed and stepping closer. She smelled that it was the broth. "I'll bring this to the kitchen. Caterina is asleep. Let's let her sleep." she said softly, took the pot from his hand and went into the hallway. Boenninghausen quietly closed the door and led her down the stairs. 

"I can't let you go out of the house from now on, girl." he said in a low but serious voice. Helena was silent. She could guess why he was doing this. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned to her. She stopped because he was blocking her way. 

"I would have expected a protest from you." Helena looked down. "Are you still so afraid of me, child?" he asked and she heard the mildness in his voice. "I am your prisoner, Sir. And I have sworn to do your bidding. Why should I protest?" she asked without fear, but with humility. 

"Look at me, Helena. Please... I want to see your eyes." Helena slowly raised her eyes and looked at the General. His face was earnest, but she saw both kindness and concern in his blue-green eyes. "You already know, don't you? You know the danger that threatens us all, my people as well as yours?" Helena nodded. "I heard the news your Captain brought. But please believe me, I wasn't eavesdropping." 

A smile fell on his lips while he looked up to her, putting one foot on the bottom step and one hand on the railing. "Even if you had eavesdropped, what does that mean now? We're sitting in the dirt with this cart together, Helena. We can only hope that everything will pass quickly. If you're a believer... say a few prayers." 

She heard sadness in his mild baritone. He turned away and wanted to disappear into her Father's study. "General Boenninghausen..." she said softly and came down the last steps. He stopped in the doorway and turned towards her, surprise in his eyes. She had never addressed him by his name before. 

Helena put the little pot down on the stairs and stepped closer to him. "Yes, child? Do you need anything?" She stopped in front of him and held out her hands to him. He raised his hands and she took his hands in hers. "Please..." she said, looking at him with frightened brown eyes, clasping her hands with his in prayer. "Please, pray with me..." 

Now it was his turn to lower his gaze. "The Lord will not answer my prayers, I'm afraid. I have loaded too much guilt on my soul." Helena sank to her knees, letting go of his hands. "Then give me some of your strength... for my prayer." 

Boenninghausen knelt down with her and closed her little folded hands in his. "Do you Protestants also pray the Pater noster?" he asked, searching for the look of her eyes. "Yes ... but in German, not Latin." Helena replied, not avoiding his gaze for the first time. "Then pray for both of us, Helena. Please." Both bowed their heads in humility. 

"Our Father in Heaven..." Helena began and for the first time since many years Boenninghausen felt something like comfort creep into his chest as he listened to Helena's prayer. Hot tears built up behind his closed lids. Helena was a good girl, brave and noble, even towards him. He wished he had met her under different circumstances. 

Whatever happened, he would give his life to protect her. He swore that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical truth:  
> There really were cities that overcame the plague, and with relatively few victims, because they did an early sort of quarantine with closing their gates, letting nobody in or out, after the first deads occured.


	42. All Things Must End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now the General is sick either. He quickly becomes aware that it isn't the flu that Caterina brought into the house... and he knows, they will all die miserably.

Helena was awakened by a barking cough and was startled. That wasn't her sister... that was the General! 'Oh dear God, don't let him be infected!' she pleaded silently and sat up. Why had she let him help to care for her sister? Since yesterday evening she had been so tired and weak herself... and his offer had been so kind and generous and had simply taken her by surprise in her tiredness. Now he was sick too. 

He sat on the edge of Caterina's bed and tried to give her some broth to drink, but she couldn't because of the cough. Boenninghausen had put his arm under Caterina's shoulders and was supporting her, presumably to calm her cough. Helena knew it was in vain. She had already tried that herself. For half the day yesterday and this morning she had coughed. The ointment and tea hadn't helped, and the fever didn't go down either. Helena was desperate. 

"You need to drink, girl." she heard his request and looked over to Caterina's bed... and was scared to death when Caterina coughed blood in his face. 

"Cati! For God's sake..." she gasped and was immediately wide awake and by her sister's bed. The General dropped the mug of broth and recoiled, the coughing child slipping out of his arm. Helena was with her immediately and pressed a handkerchief over her mouth. There was a knock at the door downstairs, but Helena ignored it. 

"What's only wrong with you, darling?" she sighed on the verge of tears. "You don't know that?" Boenninghausen growled as he wiped the blood from his face. There was another knock, but both ignored it. "No, Sir... mother never coughed blood..." "Because your mother didn't have the plague..." 

Helena's head flew to the General, her eyes full of disbelief. "It can't be ... it's not true! Never!" "Undress your sister." he ordered and Helena saw the change of color in his relentless eyes. "Sir, please..." "Do as I say. Otherwise I'll do it…" 

Helena began to tremble. She had only heard this tone once and she never wanted to hear it again. Obediently she threw back the blanket, but then she hesitated "I beg you, Sir..." "Now!" Helena winced and slowly began to pull up her sister's sweaty nightgown. 

"What in God's name is going on here?" Hoelscher asked, horrified, suddenly standing in the room. "See that you get out! And you will finally do what I said." Helena caught her breath, but she obeyed and bared her little sister in front of everyone, weeping. 

"Have you forgotten all decency, General?" Hoelscher hissed and received a slap in the face for it. "Be silent! This is not about decency, Hoelscher!" Boenninghausen shouted and tried to suppress the urge to cough... in vain. 

"Look at her body, Helena… and look carefully... also under her arms..." he coughed, pressing his hand onto his aching chest. Helena wiped the tears from her glowing face. She glowed? Was that the excitement or was she getting a fever too? That's what she needed now... 

Slowly she lifted Caterina's right arm, but found nothing. Then she lifted her left arm. What was that? She leaned over the small glowing body and examined her armpit more closely. Cati had a small, black knot there. 

"You found something?" "Yes... yes, Sir..." Helena stuttered and put Caterina's arm back on the bed. "She... she has a little black knot... what does that mean?" she asked in panic and threw the blanket over her trembling sister. "What does that mean? What I said. She has the plague." Helena jumped off the bed and backed away. 

"What? Oh dear God... oh please, dear God, no!" "Are you trying to make me believe you didn't know anything? You asked for my permission to let her visit and care for the sick at the infirmary. What cunning beasts you girls are..." Boenninghausen growled and drew his dagger. "So you want to repay me, you wretched whores." Helena swallowed hard and slowly backed away to the door. 

"Sir... please... I swear..." Hoelscher stepped between them. "General, be moderate..." "Stand aside, Hoelscher..." "Isn't it enough that you have already murdered one Duisberg daughter?" "Aside, Hoelscher!" Helena pressed her back against the door in panic. "I didn't know about anything, Sir... on my life, I swear to you... please..." Boenninghausen's green eyes glowed with anger. "YOU won't outlive me, you bitch!" 

"No!" Hoelscher shouted and tried to wrest the dagger from his commanding officer. "Run, girl!" he screamed. Helena awoke from her stupor, yanked the door open and ran out of the room. But where should she go? There was a guard at the door. She would never get past him. She ran down the stairs to her mother's death room. Her parents were still laying there in the freezing cold. The ground had been too hard to bury them. She slammed the door and put a chair in front of it. Above her she heard the noise of trampling boots, then she heard a thud and silence. 

What was happening up there, dear God? Helena knelt down next to her father, took his cold hand in her glowing one and closed her eyes. She heard hard footsteps on the stairs. The General... those were his steps... Helena knew his hard footfall only too well after the past five days. 

"Please, dear God... please be merciful and help me." she prayed. Then she opened her eyes and looked into her father's peaceful face. 

"Please tell me it's not bad to die, Papa..." she whispered and kissed his cold hand. "Please tell me that dying doesn't hurt... please, Papa... I'm so scared..." Hot tears flowed down her face. The door handle clacked loudly, but the chair held. 

"Open the bloody door!" the General yelled and she heard a hard bang at the door. The chair shook. Another bang. She winced and buried her face against her father's arm. With another bang the door flew open and the chair rumbled across the room. Boenninghausen had kicked the door down. Helena trembled with fear when she saw the blood on his hand and shirt... and the bloody dagger in his hand. 

Breathing heavily, he stood in the doorway and looked down at her in anger. He hesitated to enter the room. His eyes darted uncertainly from her mother to her father and back to her. 

"Please... please, General Boenninghausen... don't kill me." she pleaded, leaning her forehead against her father. "I never thought that a good and honest girl like you could be part of such a plan..." Boenninghausen gasped and coughed.

"I swear to God, Sir... I had no idea. You spoke to the Medicus a few days ago when I was out of the house. I thought..." "I did what?" he asked, his face astonished, almost stunned. "The day before I asked your permission for my sister, Sir... she said he asked for help, but you refused." 

Boenninghausen lowered the dagger and stared at her. "She told you so?" he asked in a serious voice and Helena nodded. "And what help did I deny him?" "To support those still suffering from the flu." "The Medicus was never here." "What?" The shock in Helena's eyes convinced him she was telling the truth. She really had no idea. 

"He... he was never here? But... but Caterina... she said..." She fell silent as the General entered the room. Her gaze darted from his gray-green eyes to the bloody dagger in his hand. "Please, Sir... believe me... please..." she whimpered, huddling against her dead father in fear. She winced in panic as the dagger clattered to the ground. 

"How could I believe you were so cunning?" he asked, carefully placing a hand on her head. Helena was trembling like a leaf. "I almost killed you... and maybe I still should. Forgive me, child." Helena looked up to him in fear and despair and broke away from her father. "Why, Sir? Please... what have I done to you that you want to kill me? Have mercy..." she pleaded, clutching his hips and leaning her forehead against his thigh, crying. He stroked her head comfortingly. 

"You haven't done anything to me, girl... nothing... I just want to spare you agony." he whispered mildly and coughed again. "We're dying anyway, child... both of us... slowly and painfully." he said in a hoarse voice and sank to his knees. "I may deserve it for the suffering and pain I brought your family... but not you, dear child... not you." Helena heard the regret in his voice and looked up to him. 

His eyes were mild, almost sad. He raised his hand to brush a strand from her face and she flinched when she saw the blood again. "Is that... did you...?" she began, but could not find the courage. "Poor Hoelscher... another victim of my excessive rage..." he confessed voicelessly and bowed his head in shame. 

"He was a good boy... what have I done? What kind of person have I become? Cursed be the day I came to Iserlohn!" He was shaking and Helena saw that he was trying to hold back his tears. "This damn city has only brought me bad luck... first your parents... now your sisters..." He coughed again, then the tears finally broke loose and Boenninghausen screamed his pain out. 

Helena was shocked. Suddenly the man she was so terrified of looked so vulnerable. She felt overwhelming compassion. At the same time she was confused. Why had her parents brought him bad luck? Suddenly he took her in his arms and hugged her, trembling all over. 

"Forgive me, Helena ... forgive what I did to your father ... and your sisters ..." Helena winced. Sisters? Did he...? "Did you... Cati...?" she asked and he nodded. "She... she would only have suffered... and... and I swore to your Father... I wanted to protect you... by my soul, I really wanted to... I didn't want all this to happen! Please, dear God... I didn't want to... I didn't mean to..." Weeping, he broke down in her arms. 

"I loved your Mother so much... and hurt her... your Father was once my friend... and I killed him... and his daughters too... forgive me, Helena... please... I can no longer live with this guilt... and I can't die with it..." 

His words tore her heart in her chest. The devil Boenninghausen... the butcher of Magdeburg... he was a simple person with a soul, just like herself.

"I... I forgive you, General..." she whispered, hugging him. What did it matter now? If he had told the truth, they would both perish soon… cruelly. She wanted to step before the Almighty with a pure heart and without resentment. And apparently the man in her arms wanted that too, because Helena felt how he slowly calmed down. 

"Thank you..." he whispered, pulling out of her embrace. "You... you are a noble person, Helena..." A new fit of coughing shook him. Helena brushed the hair from his hot face. "You have a fever, Sir." "So be it... that doesn't matter anymore. Soon I'll be gone, child. Soon we will both be gone. Your sister knew that I would follow her to the grave... I saw it in her eyes. But that she would tear you down with her..." "In the end she hated me... said I would make a cowardly pact with you instead of doing the same like our sister. Just because I wanted to protect her..." Helena lowered her head sadly. 

"If only you knew how similar you are to your Father, Helena... how I wish none of this had ever happened. I would have loved to meet you under different circumstances." She looked into his sad blue eyes. 

"Will it hurt a lot when we die?" she asked. "I don't know, child... but before that it will be very painful, I think." Helena closed her brown eyes. It would probably hurt very much. She saw the tortured face of Caterina before her. Poor little sister. What suffering she had taken to avenge her father. 

"General?" she asked in a low voice and looked up to him. "Yes?" "You... you said... you said you would want to spare me agony..." she said softly and leaned against his chest. "Can you... can you give me a... a merciful death? Swift… without pain?" He gently closed his arms around her. 

"I don't want to kill you, Helena. Forgive what I said earlier. I was angry..." She hugged him back. "There would be no more guilt for you... I will intercede before God for your soul." "Don't ask this of me, Helena. I... I can't do that." She pulled away from his embrace and slowly stood up. Then she went to the door and picked up the bloody dagger. "I would be willing to help you too, General. I don't want you to suffer. You have a good heart." she said and sank back on her knees. 

Boenninghausen smiled mildly. "You can't help me, Helena. One of us will be left and has to kill himself..." "You are wrong, General." she said sympathetically, took his bloody hand and pulled back his sleeve. "Forgive me." she said, cutting his wrist deeply. Boenninghausen gritted his teeth. "What are you doing there, child?" he asked after she cut his other wrist deeply and the blood was slowly pouring out to the rhythm of his heartbeat. "My grandmother took her own life like this when I was little. We found her in her house with her wrists cut open... Father couldn't prevent that I saw her..." She turned the dagger and held out the handle to him. 

"Now you don't commit suicide, General." A gentle smile slipped onto his lips. "Thank you, Helena. Maybe I don't have to burn in hell for all eternity now." He took the dagger from her hand and put it aside. Helena looked at him questioningly. 

"Your wish was merciful... and swift... I can grant you this... if you want." Helena closed her eyes in resignation. "Please, General... please release me." she pleaded softly. 

"Take me in your arms. It will be swift, dear child. You won't feel anything, I promise." he said in a mild voice and Helena hugged him tightly. "Thank you, General... and I forgive you with all my heart." 

He leaned her head lovingly on his shoulder and she felt his arm on the back of her neck. "God protect you." he whispered affectionately. She didn't feel or hear the dry snap of her breaking neck. 

Boenninghausen held her petite body in his arms and kissed her temple. Then he got up, slowly picked her up and placed her lovingly between Anne and Henrich. Her face was so peaceful, as if she were sleeping. 

He felt dizzy and dropped back to his knees. The loss of blood made itself felt. It wouldn't be long now. Maybe he had ten minutes left. He looked at Duisberg. For the first time, he felt no guilt in his chest... no shame... and no hate. Maybe there was still hope for his damned soul after all. He leaned his forehead against Henrich's chest. "Goodbye, old friend."

The End


End file.
